


The Whims of Fate

by edgynessgalore69



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anti-Muggle Content, Blood Magic, Bullying, Care of Magical Creatures, Courtship, Dark Harry, Elemental Magic, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, F/M, Good Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Good!Dark, Gringotts Wizarding Bank, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Rivalry, Hierarchy, Horcruxes, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Magical Artifacts, Magical Inheritance, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Minor Bellatrix Black Lestrange/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Moral Ambiguity, Murder, Nobility, Orphanage, Pining Draco Malfoy, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Lily Evans Potter, Rituals, Royalty, The Deathly Hallows, Violence, Wizarding Politics (Harry Potter), Young Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2020-04-28 19:37:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 66,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19156735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgynessgalore69/pseuds/edgynessgalore69
Summary: Hadara Potter was nothing they thought she'd be: A bitter orphan, an unusually talented girl with chilling similarities to a certain dark lord. Where had Dumbledore gone wrong? What is the truth about her heritage? And what secrets is she hiding?





	1. The Butterfly Effect

**Author's Note:**

> I know this had been deleted and uploaded many times, due to my old laptop being a glitchy piece of shit, but, luckily I've gotten a new one and will, hopefully, be able to continue this story after the long break from writing i've taken. Thank you for sticking with me through these technical difficulties and my own lack of motivation or creativity needed to finish this story...let's hope the 3rd times a charm.

**October 31, 1981**

Dimly, the moon shone down upon the quaint village of Godric's Hollow, it's light feeble and blurred in comparison to the stark black of the night sky, an endless sea of shadows smattered by billions of stars.

The fall wind held a teeth-chattering chill, it's fierce howling the only noise interrupting the dead quiet of the night, the sound almost like a forewarning of the unfortunate events to come.

Snot-nosed children roamed the streets, swinging jack-o-lantern shaped buckets full of sweets back and forth, skipping across the cobblestone streets, door to door where smiling old women greeted them with a handful of candies.

They were all naive of the tragedy about to take place, ignorant of the family that would be soon ripped apart and the prophecy that would be broken before it could come to fruition.

Obscured by the thick shadows cast by the trees planted in the generous expanse of yard owned by the Potter family, was a sneering, cloaked man, who's sharp, burning crimson eyes and cold, handsome features were obscured by his dark hood. A menacing smirk that flashed sharp pearly teeth was the only thing visible in the dark.

The man's eyes were focused intently on the modest cottage in front of him, his being practically oozing with malicious intent. The fidelius charm had been long broken, although the foolish Potter family didn't know it yet.

How completely stupid they were to trust and place their safety in the hands of a sniveling little Pettigrew, a spineless, groveling rat.

He could feel, almost taste the putrid light magic staining the very air of the family home, and it was only making the snake-like man more and more eager to finish the task at hand. So disgusting, it was.

It took time, much more than it should have, but, now, he finally had the means of eliminating the prophesied child sleeping in the very nursery visible from his spot in the yard. After he was finished, it would be known to all that there was no one capable of defeating him, and, his power would never be questioned again.

He couldn't wait to see the look on the doddering old fool's face when he saw his savior's corpse. The old coot would soon learn how utterly idiotic he was to believe a mere bratty child to be capable of defeating someone as powerful and prestigious as him.

The Dark Lord Voldemort spared his unsavory surroundings one last disgusted sneer, surging forward much like a predator after it's prey, steps powerful and full of righteous purpose.

\------------------

In the comfort and warmth of her home, Lily Potter stood, watching her baby girl crawling around in her cot, lovingly running her hands through the silky black hair adorning her little head.

This child had been the cause of all of her happiness this past year, and, despite the stress of the prophesy and war weighing down on their family, her daughter was a beacon of light, a constant in the changing times and force that brought her and her husband together through the rough start of their marriage and to the semblance of peace they held now.

Their bright little girl had single-handedly brought her and James hope during the aftermath of the shameful time the couple had spent away from each other when James would binge drink away all of their problems and drown himself in his Auror duties and Lily would spend unfaithful nights in the company of questionable men whom she barely knew.

She deeply regretted all of that now, how she had slept around, trying to somehow receive the attention and love her husband hadn't given her for countless long, dark days, and the hopelessness she had felt, then.

At the time, she had truly believed that their marriage was destined to fail and often had thoughts of filing for divorce papers, only to be met with the shadows that clung under James eyes and the weak smiles he had given her, so different from the confident grin that had won her over, and she had put it off, pretending everything would be alright.

Lily's pregnancy had been the thing that kept their marriage together and brought them the hope and the resolve needed to fix their problems so that they could be good parents for their daughter.

And what a beautiful, precious little daughter she was! With her pretty little features and sparkling green eyes, a mirror of Lily's own.

It was a miracle...their daughter was a miracle.

After months of them trying for children with no such luck and having had a mediwizard pronounce James as infertile, they both had bitterly given up on their dreams of ever having children.

The Potter lord beat himself up about it for months and months on end, falling into a pit of depression, and sullenly declaring himself unfit to be called a man, before, suddenly, Lily found out she was pregnant after a simple monthly check-up with her healer when she'd been having terrible morning sickness and fatigue.

It was a miracle. They were so incredibly happy.

And even when Dumbledore gravely told them about the prophecy that proclaimed their daughter as the chosen one who would one day defeat Lord Voldemort, and they had to go into hiding, they stuck through it all.

They were willing to do whatever it took to keep their little girl safe and happy. They would readily risk their lives for her because she gave them their happiness and hope back.

Unknown to Lily, that happiness that she had been given was ill-fated, destined to be taken by the selfish hands of a murderous dark lord and the remorseless wheels of fate.

As if on cue, the distant sound of shouting and cold laughter followed by the dull, hollow thump of something heavy hitting the floor shattered the silence of her home.

Lily's emerald green eyes widened in fear and trepidation as she quickly sped down the stairs, forgetting to even bring her wand in her haste.

A gasp of horror left Lily's taunt, whitening lips as she reached the bottom of the stairs, where she was met with the gut-wrenching, earth-shattering scene of James' limp, lifeless corpse and the hooded horrifyingly red stare of Voldemort standing over his body.

The witch's body moved on pure maternal instinct to protect her daughter, her mind racing and a torrent of tears falling from her eyes and she kept re-living the scene in her head, the knowledge that James was well and truly dead enough to send her into a state of shock.

She pushed on with the strength that only a mother could possess, soon reaching the nursery, her legs trembling and heart thumping against the confines of her ribcage as she attempted to barricade her and her baby in by piling chairs and boxes in front of the door.

Lily Potter had no time to think, let alone mourn the loss of her husband, for the sound of Voldemort's cruel laugh could be heard from behind the door, and she was left feeling utterly hopeless and full of despair as the boxes and furniture pushed away from the door by the invisible force of magic.

So Lily did the only thing she could and threw herself in front of her child, who had been awoken and cried out when the nursery door was blasted open, wood shards flying through the air as Voldemort came walking through.

His horrible red eyes glinted cruelly and in his grasp was a long, pale wand which he pointed at her with a poised hand, his expression nothing but pure monstrous evil, emphasized by the coal black hair framing his inhumanly pale face and the potent dark magic swirling around his unnaturally tall form and filling Lily with despair.

Lily shakily threw her arms wide, shielding her daughter with tears running down her face, trembles and sobs wracking her body, "Not my baby!", she screamed, her voice breaking from the heavy spiral of emotions she was feeling.

"Stand aside, you silly girl!", The dark lord hissed menacingly at the idiotic women Severus pleaded for him to spare.

Lily didn't move an inch, shielding her little girl from the wand jabbed at her, determined to keep her baby safe, "Kill me! Not her! Not my baby...please kill me instead! Spare her! I beg of you!"

The dark lord's eyes narrowed into a livid red glare, "Have it your way then", he murmured, feeling nothing but detest for the utterly weak nature of the red-haired women, who was so intent on wasting her life for her useless child.

A bright flash of green light lit up the nursery, Lily potter's body dropping lifelessly onto the floor like a marionette cut from its strings.

Too bad, it looked like Snape wouldn't get the mudblood whore, after all.

Voldemort chuckled darkly down at the dead woman, vaguely recalling her face from one of the many tramps Dolohov picked up for him to enjoy after a particularly successful raid, an act that he, just once, indulged in.

He cackled, recalling the way the harlot had so eagerly spread her legs for him, how she hadn't even needed the same...persuasion that the others had. She just let him bury himself in her and hadn't even looked at him, only moaned wantonly.

It was utterly amusing that she happened to be part of Dumbledore's pathetic little following, and, probably had been pregnant with the Potter's spawn when he took her, not that she would remember.

He was much more careful than that; After he finished and grew bored with her, her memory was obliviated and she was tossed back into the streets like the dirty filth she was.

Voldemort smirked smugly but quickly focused back on the task at hand. He stepped over the corpse with little care and came closer to the cot, aiming his wand at the child, who was oddly calm, gazing up at him with some form of curiosity, eyes matching those of her dead mother.

There was no trace of fear in her eyes, not even as he leaned down over her, baring his teeth into a terrifying sneer that made grown men and women cower in fear and throw themselves at his feet.

But, the girl just watched him, serene, a high giggle bubbling out of her throat, as if he hadn't, in fact, just took her parents lives, damning her an orphan, though, it hardly mattered, as her small corpse would join those of her parents.

Immensely curious of this child, Voldemort yanked his hood back and inspected the girl fully for a moment his eyes latching onto hers, when he sensed an abnormally powerful magical core radiating from her.

His expression flashed, showing a sliver of shock and awe. He had believed that the magic belonged to the dead woman, but, as she was dead, it could only be the girl's magic. However, the fact she was only just a little over a year old and already showing power equivalent to that of a matured witch was astonishing.

 _{How truly frightening}_ , he hissed in the language of the snakes, running a long, thin finger through the dark curls adorning her head. At least she wasn't an ugly thing, as children usually were.  

She cocked her head to the side as if considering him, before smiling a toothless grin and reaching out her arms as if asking to be held.

The dark lord frowned at what a loss of talent killing this child would be if she was already beginning to show strong magic and intelligence, but, he reigned the feeling in. The power she held meant that she was an even bigger threat than she was made out to be by the old coot's seer.

He quietly untangled his finger from the tuft of black hair and hushed the child, staring in her glittering orbs one last time.

"Avada Kedavra", he rasped out after a moment's pause, the room engulfed in the same wicked emerald green as the little girl's eyes.

And then he broke, and he was nothing but pain and terror, and the only coherent thought he had was to flee, to get away from the rubble of the house where the strange little girl was now crying, and to flee, far, far away.

\-------------

Standing on the street of the cookie-cutter muggle neighborhood of Privet Drive was Albus Dumbledore, who's long silver beard, flamboyant purple robes, and abnormal existence would be ostracized if the neighborhood's very normal inhabitants were awake.

Cradled in the headmaster's thin arms was a wicker basket, inside of which was a mound of blankets and a sleeping baby girl; Hadara Potter, or as she would be celebrated as after this night, the girl-who-lived, the savior of the light and the one who defeated the dark lord Voldemort.

Though, that was not so much the truth...He need not fear someone learning of the truth, however, as they would see it as he painted it for them. 

Seeing the man appear suddenly, a tabby cat that had been resting against the brick wall of one of the houses, leaped towards the headmaster and transformed into a tall, severe-looking woman dressed in bottle green robes, with a worried, solemn look in her eyes.

"Minerva...lovely seeing you here", Dumbledore greeted her, masking his displeasure at being interrupted during what was supposed to be a swift drop off with a pleasant smile. Everything was going according to plan, and he did not need his hard work ruined by the clever transfiguration professor.

"Is it true?", Minerva pried, ignoring the headmaster's greeting, "Is You-Know-Who truly...gone?"

Dumbledore decided it best he not answer that question, at least not truthfully, and, instead offered the professor a lemon drop, to which she declined with a cold stare as if telling him this was not the place nor time for muggle sweets. Dumbledore frowned and popped one into his mouth.

"Are the other rumors true? Are James and Lily truly...dead?", she pressed on, voice wavering at the terrible prospect with sorrow in her tone. 

Dumbledore nodded grimly, gently patting Mgonagall's shoulder when she let out a shocked, horrified gasp.

The professor's voice trembled as she went on, "They're saying he tried to kill their daughter, Hadara, but he couldn't. Nobody knows why or how, but he was somehow vanquished and she lived...The-Girl-Who-Lived."

Dumbledore bowed his head, nodding once again, but not offering anything more.

"It is true!", McGonagall only then noticed the basket and the baby in Dumbledore's arms, having been too focused on her grief and mountain of questions.

"How did she survive the killing curse?", she asked, studying the child and the strange lightning bolt-shaped cut on her forehead. She was fast asleep, but her tuft of curly black hair glittered under the starry night. "Poor child", she frowned sadly. 

"We may never know the circumstances of what occurred this terrible night." Dumbledore was unwilling to divulge the truth about the matter. The only one who needed to know the truth was himself, and, eventually the child in his arms when the time was ready for her to do what she was now destined to.

"Now.." Minerva paused to dab at her teary eyes before continuing in a serious tone "Why, exactly, are you here?"

Dumbledore frowned deeply at her accusatory look, the twinkle in his aged blue eyes dwindling, "I've come to bring Hadara to her aunt and uncle."

McGonagall cried out in shock and outrage, "You can't mean you're placing her with the muggles here!? I've been observing them and I must say they're the worst sort of Muggles imaginable!"

"This will be the best place for her." Dumbledore replied and pinned McGonagall with a heavy look, "She will grow up with her family and out of the public eye. Surely you don't believe Hadara should grow up in the Wizarding world, scrutinized by everyone and targeted by dark wizards?"

McGonagall was about to argue but found that Dumbledore made a good point. It wouldn't do for the girl to be targeted by bitter dark wizards, ever loyal to their cause, and she would undoubtedly be safer in the muggle world than the Wizarding world.

However, she still disagreed with the muggles that the girl would be placed with. They were simply not acceptable guardians. She had seen the little boy in the home and how he screamed and kicked at his mother during a temper tantrum. She paled just thinking about the poor girl having to live with them... 

"If you place her with those muggles, then, do _not_ expect my support. This is a rightly foolish decision Albus!", he huffed, her Scottish accent heavy in her ranting.

"There is not a person in our world who will not know her name...she is far better away from all of that."

Seeing the Albus was dead set on his decision and ignoring the valid points she made about the girl's safety with those horrid muggles, she glared angrily at him and apparated away without another word out of sheer spite and furiousness. 

Dumbledore merely sighed, knowing that the Transfiguration professor was stubborn as a bull and wouldn't listen to his reasoning, whether he was fully telling the truth or not, he knew he was right to do this. It needed to be done.

The headmaster hobbled over to Number 4 and set the basket down on the front step, placing a letter with her. He apparated away after muttering a quick, unfeeling goodbye, merely wishing the child luck.

He knew in confidence that the Dursley's would mold the girl into someone who he would easily be able to influence and that she would be safe with her family's blood, and that was really all that mattered.

It was a shame that her godfather, an innocent man, had to be sacrificed but it was an easy choice. For The Greater Good. 

When she came back to their world, eager for love and affection, he would easily gain her trust and mold her into the savior that she needed to become.

\----------------------------

Hours later, when Petunia Dursley was awoken by wails that weren't recognizable as belonging to her darling, slumbering son, she stomped outside to find where the ruckus came from and found a freezing child with her eyes mirroring those of her sister's and a lightning bolt cut on her head.

The wind howled and screeched, biting, and cold. An omen, perhaps. 

At once, Petunia let out a horrified scream at the sight of her apparent niece, and, with little care, she threw the basket into the back of her car and ripped up the letter to shreds, as it no doubt entitled her to some sort of obligation toward the rotten child.

She would have absolutely none of that. No...if her freakish little sister had gotten herself killed in some unnatural way, she wanted nothing to do with it. 

Scowling, she sped out of the driveway and far away from Privet Drive to find an orphanage with enough distance between them that the wretched girl wouldn't try to find Petunia and her family and where her freakishness could be kept away from them.

That night, the matron of Wool's Orphanage opened the door to find a child sat upon the steps with nothing but a blanket with strange golden balls with wings, a birthdate, and the name 'Hadara Potter' stitched into it.

As the child was somewhat reluctantly taken in by a wary matron, deep within the ministry of magic in the department of mysteries, a prophecy shattered into hundreds of pieces, fate itself irrevocably changed by the actions of an old man with delusions of grandeur


	2. A Grim Upbringing

**Wool's Orphanage, _Late December of 1981_**

"I'm telling you, Alice, there's something seriously wrong with that child!" Agatha Cole's tone held a vicious edge as she jabbed her long, warty finger toward one of the numerous noisy children playing with the beaten up, old toys scattering the floor in the overpopulated nursery room.

This unusual girl sat a great distance from the others, apparently disregarding them as she played with a worn-out, chipped set of wooden building blocks, constructing a castle-like structure that was exceptionally intricate and towering. Ever the talented one, she was.

Regardless of the girl's talent, it was essential that she learned how to make friends. Alice herself often tried to place Hadara down and get her to play with some other younger children. However, the girl never got along with them or expressed any sort of interest and always got up on her steady legs to walk back to her little corner and sit and play by herself- or stare into space without a single sound or recognition of those around her.

Because such anti-social behavior was worrying and had to be corrected while she was still growing up, Alice and a few of the other workers tried numerous diverse approaches to get the girl to sit with the other children her age, or at least near them, but, it never worked and eventually, they just gave up.

Alice Cole would have rolled her eyes if such a gesture weren't so crude, having heard this particular concern and multiple other complaints many, many times from her sister, as well as several absurd stories that the head matron stubbornly stated were true.

Rather than calling her sister out on her absurd behavior, Alice warmed another bottle of milk and handed it off to one of the other workers who quieted a crying baby with it.

Agatha had  _always_  been terribly intolerable towards anything beyond the ordinary, even as a child, and, while Alice felt the same way about such things, Agatha sometimes took her beliefs a little  _too_  far.

That was one of the reasons why Alice frequently pondered why Agatha inherited her position as head of the orphanage after their mother's death instead of her- who was better equipped for such a job despite being the younger daughter. 

Frowning thoughtfully at the quiet, abnormally well-behaved girl that her sister said was 'seriously wrong in the head', Alice allowed herself a sigh. "Please do lay off of it, for now, Agatha. She is only a baby, a peculiar one, I admit, yet she is still only a child."

Agatha developed an irritable scowl at the sister's refusal to listen to reason; Everyone else-workers and neighbors alike recognized that the girl was disturbed in the mind, but, Alice failed to realize the severity of it all.

She shot the toddler in question a nasty stare that tugged on the wrinkled features around her wimple as pure loathing clawed up her throat, "There is something wrong with her, I'm telling you! She can do things...unnatural, wicked things..."

"She's merely a baby!", Alice exclaimed. She was quickly tiring of the way Agatha treated a little girl like she was a monstrosity.

Though, admittedly, Alice didn't like the girl any more than Agatha did; Ever since she was dumped on their step like a parcel, nothing but incident after incident transpired.

Objects would disappear from their proper places, only to reappear somewhere else hours, or maybe even days later. The electricity would flicker on and off at random increments, most notably when the little ones were being particularly loud, and sometimes, there was this peculiar...feeling that knotted up her stomach and left her gasping for breath whenever she stared into the girl's unfathomably green eyes.

Little, inconsequential things like that, that, if Agatha hadn't brought up the topic of the Potter girl, Alice wouldn't have even thought of, as these happenings were something she overlooked after almost four months of being around the child.

The knowledge that she could overlook someone like Hadara Potter had her a little shocked, after all, that child was someone that was very difficult to ignore.

She was definitely an unsettling little girl- she was  _freaky._

After all, what one-and-a-half year old could talk in mostly complete sentences? And with such a cold tone, too...sometimes, though Alice was ashamed to admit it, she wished the girl wouldn't speak at all; Such a young girl talking better than many of the older kids gave the woman a feeling of unreasonable apprehensiveness.

Of course, she sometimes acted like a typical child would; she mumbled unintelligible gibberish, strange words that sounded nothing like English.

What was it she had jibber jabbered on about when she first arrived? It was a strange jumble of words- Alice could only remember because the phrase had been so bizarre...

Avandia Kedavra? Something silly like that...

While the girl undoubtedly was disturbing, Alice didn't want to believe she was the one behind it all, simply because the thought scared her. A child capable of the sinful acts her sister kept talking about was worrying.

"Perhaps you're just stressed out and you're imagining the feats you declare? You are head of an institution bursting with hungry children and just barely enough money to go around, after all", Alice eventually stated, shooting Agatha a terse look. 

Alice Cole's smile, much like Agatha's own, was thin and terse while she spoke, "Why don't you take a rest? I can take over for the rest of the day if you would like?"

Agatha contemplated her offer, remembering the bottle of scotch stored in her office- a gift from William, the neighborhood priest. Though, ultimately, she resolved that, though she may feel stressed, she did not possess a great enough imagination to imagine the freakish things she had witnessed the girl do.

"Don't patronize me", she eventually muttered, stroking the silver cross hanging from her neck. What she saw the girl do were demonic, evil acts...things no one of sound mind and body should be capable of.

"I apologize, sister, however, you must understand I am simply trying to help you...imagine what people would think if you carelessly speak of the girl like such. They will think you insensitive and incapable of your position."

Alice's tone was soothing as she lectured Agatha, "It's...distasteful, we wouldn't want to suffer the loss of potential adoption because of your opinions." Even though she said this, Alice couldn't help but think that she'd rather not let a couple adopt the girl- she didn't want to pass her and her enigmas off to someone else.

Alice recognized that her sister probably thought the same way, too; there had been many couples that expressed interest in adopting the girl- claiming that she was a 'treasure'- with her sparkling green eyes and onyx black hair, only to chat with Agatha and suddenly decide that they would rather not have her and move onto another, more worthy child.

Alice suspected that the head matron had notified them of the girl's unusualnesses and changed their minds, looking for a better child who deserved a home more than the Potter girl.

To some degree, the sister could understand what the couples found so interesting about her at first- Hadara would grow up to be a rather smart girl if she was already showing signs of being able to understand things beyond her age. 

Alice guessed that if she hadn't spent as much time around her as she had and seen the same things Agatha spoke of, she probably would find her enchanting like they had- but, that was not the case.

Agatha sniffed, uncaring, "Be that as it may, I know what I've seen."

The woman's eyes narrowed further and further as she whispered,"...Things move by themselves around her, the covers on her cot are always warm, her bowls of porridge never appear to run out...animals act oddly around her- she's a devilish child."

Alice huffed, disturbed by this conversation topic that continued to rear its ugly head as it had countless times since the unfortunate orphan was dropped on their step with nothing but an unusual blanket that had her name and birthdate stitched into it:

Hadara Potter...what an odd name it was, much like the girl it belonged to, and she was rather odd; so odd that Alice could easily understand and sympathize with her sister's concerns and anxieties.

Despite that, Alice did not want their reputation tarnished because of her sister's inability to keep calm and quiet about her suspicions.

It would not do well for information to get out about a new ward of theirs with supposedly 'demonic powers', and that they actually believed it to be true enough to take action. They were a respectable Catholic orphanage, after all.

However, Alice would arrange for that girl to be baptized and purified as soon as possible.

There was a multitude of different things that made young Hadara Potter unique, mainly how seldom she spoke, the way she often kicked and punched and threw fits if she were held for longer than a few minutes, and the fact that she liked to climb out of her crib and go cause mischief and make a mess in the nursery late at night.

But, maybe the strangest thing about her was that she had been dropped off in the middle of the night by a distraught woman Agatha and Alice both swore was a druggie, with her bloodshot eyes and reckless driving.

Even odder was that there weren't any birth records of any 'Hadara Potter' born on July 31, 1980, to be found.

The police hunted and searched their records and files, but could not unearth anything. This brought the question of who exactly she was and where exactly she came from- a question not that uncommon amongst the countless orphans at Wool's but not common either.

Nobody had any knowledge of the girl or any information concerning her origins or her family except for the ever fading memory of a long-necked junkie dropping her off on their step on the first of November and speeding away without so much as a word.

With an unhinged, sinful mother like her, the girl was bound to be strange. Her differences were the result of bad blood, that was all- nothing that couldn't be healed.

They would baptize her soon and she would be cleansed and guided by the light of the lord. She would be fixed and her imperfections would be perfected while she grew up being taught about the bible and the person she needed to be to be accepted by their lord.

What Alice Cole failed to see and Agatha cole, unfortunately, did, were the wooden building blocks hovering up and onto the top of the castle structure, completing it as the young girl laughed and babbled to herself, pure magic glittering wildly in the green eyes that possessed a comprehension of things well beyond her age.

These were all powerful gifts that, no matter how hard one tried, they could not get rid of, conceal, or 'cleanse' her of it.

Agatha Cole had no understanding of anything beyond anything she believed to be normal, and as such didn't know this as she composed a silent commitment to herself to fix the girl- unknowing that this resolution would ultimately lead to her ruin.


	3. Freak

**_ Spring of 1984 _ **

The other kids called her a freak. She didn't like them. They were stupid, disgusting and rude. They obviously didn't like her either- for whatever reason.

Did they resent her because she could make her stuffed animals dance and her toys fly without touching them and they were stuck with their boring old toys? Or because she was smarter? Sister Helen said she was gifted, but, Sister Agatha didn't think so. 

She didn't know much about why they all treated her the way they did, only that they weren't the same as her. They couldn't do the things she could do.  _They were the freaks._

Sister Agatha was angry at her and struck her with a wooden ruler and told her that she couldn't do 'freakish things' anymore. She yelled, screaming that Hadara was a monster and that she was doing the devil's work. Sister Alice was terribly angry, too...she muttered about her, saying that she was a miscreant. 

Hadara didn't want to be a 'miscreant', but she didn't want to be like the rest of them.

She desperately wanted to be different, but, no one liked it when she made the flowers grow, or the fire dance in her hands. She never meant to make anyone mad, but they always were anyway.

The lily in the grass had just looked so lonely by itself...she just wanted it to have friends.

She knew what it was like to not have friends...

The lily reminded her of the pretty green woman in her dreams; So, she whispered to the roses in the field and told them to grow by the lily and they listened. The ground, the dirt, the water, and the fire always did what she told them to...they all listened. 

Such a strange color, the roses were...like the eyes of that man who hissed his words and made that pretty green light in her sleep.

Sometimes, she wondered where her parents were and why they left her in such a place. She wished that that green woman and the red-eyed man could be her parents, but, Sister Agatha said that her mother had been an ugly woman, with a horse-like face. Sister Alice told her that her mum was a wicked person- a sinner and that she couldn't be like her, that she had to listen to God's word.

Hadara tried to be good, but, she couldn't help but use her freakishness. It whispered in her ears sometimes, begging to be free, to be used. It hurt when she didn't use it. 

She forgot what her mum and dad really looked like. They were just nameless blurry figures in her head, all she had of them was Sister Agatha's words. Not that it really mattered. They wouldn't come back for her and she wouldn't be seeing them again, this she knew.

Still, she wished to remember their faces, to see them once more, to remember what it was like not being alone. She never could remember much of anything about them, though, just her dreams, but, they were just that- dreams.

It seemed flowers were a lot easier to remember- their name, their color, and scent. They weren't as complicated as people.

The other kids, they knew what their parents looked like...they were lucky, but, they didn't have  _it_ \- only she did, only she had  _it._

Because she was  _special._

She was _better_  than all of them.

Sometimes, when they hurt her, she hurt them back. It felt _good._

\------------------------------

**_ July 31st, 1984 _ **

It was Hadara's birthday, the third one since she had been dumped off at the orphanage. She was now four years old, though Hadara couldn't say she cared much about that. She didn't have anyone to celebrate it with. 

She had never been given a birthday present before- aside from tatty baby clothes when she was younger and things she couldn't remember but could have had before she was abandoned at the orphanage. 

The only things she did have that were completely hers were the things she stole from the others and kept under her mattress and the things she made appear by thinking of them.

If it weren't for her freakishness, she would be wearing the same starchy drab clothes as everyone else, but, thankfully, she could transform the second-hand clothes that had been donated to the orphaned into something perfect and new, though Agatha accused her of stealing them.

But, even though she wished for something that was truly her own, she didn't ask. The now four-year-old didn't want to make the matron angry about her allegedly ungrateful attitude again, or whatever other excuses she had for treating her so terribly.

She'd many times been knocked around with Agatha's infamous metal cane for a great number of greatly unfair reasons. One of the times being that she was breathing too loudly, another for not having perfect, poised posture, and, one for not writing well enough when she forced her to write with her non-dominant hand while her other was taped to a desk, despite the fact that Hadara always did everything perfectly and that the other children her age couldn't even write yet.

Last time the unpleasant woman was especially cross, she took to striking her arms with a thick wooden 'discipline stick', starting with ten blows and then adding more if she moved her arms or flinched. That was a painful experience, but, the bruises healed themselves before they could even form, without Hadara even need to wish for it.

This, of course, provoked Agatha to an even worse state of rage, but, Hadara sped away before the woman could punish her again, hiding in the pantry, where she remained for the better half of the day.

Agatha had always been a crude, irritating beast. Despite her talents in school, music, ballet, and art, and almost everything she did, Hadara could never be good enough in Agatha's eyes, though that wasn't even a goal of her's in the first place.

Being in a place bursting with workers and older kids alike who found her very presence intolerable meant that she learned very quickly how to run, dodge hits and hide where no one could find her, even if she found having to do so irksome, she still did it out of self-preservation.

Still, she made sure she got back at anyone who was unkind to her and that the petty bullies regretted their actions when they woke up in a bed full of spiders, or 'accidentally' happened to tumble down the stairs and break a bone, or found themselves covered in painful boils and hives.

She didn't feel even a little bit guilty about it, either. The fools got what they deserved, and it wasn't like anyone was clever enough to connect the dots and realize that most of the injuries occurred when someone did something to make Hadara cross; like stealing her things, calling her names, tripping her, taking her food, hitting her, trashing her room, and whatever else they did.

Nobody suspected Hadara had anything to do with the fractured bones, mysterious illnesses, nightmares, and panic attacks, after all, she was just an innocent little, puny orphan girl- a smart one, but still, just a girl.  

Even Agatha, the head matron, couldn't persuade anyone otherwise.

Hadara had started practicing 'it' even more lately, trying different things when she was alone in her room on the very top, a drafty floor of the orphanage, where the others rarely went.

Unlike everyone else, she didn't have to share her room because no one wanted to be with her, mostly because she made their things disappear and whispered inside their heads to leave or else.

If they didn't leave after that, she would make them have nightmares by thinking of scary things and putting those things in their heads until they couldn't sleep and screamed and thrashed all night long until they were taken to a different room while the workers muttered about her under their breath- not nearly as quiet as they think they are.

She could do a lot more now, and she could control it even better. That power in her was growing stronger and bigger every day, and she was excited about the possibilities of what she would be able to do in the future.

Just the other day she made bright white lights on the tips of her fingers like E.T on the telly! She could transform her things into other, better things by thinking about it, she could make heavier things float, and at night she made light shows in the dark, creating small, colorful birds and butterflies out of light, flying them around her room.

Sometimes, she could even make Ms. Agatha fall asleep and not wake up for a while so that she wasn't up and yelling at her, or she could get rid of the woman's anger for a while and redirect her ire towards someone else, someone who actually deserved it.

She couldn't understand why Ms. Agatha hated it when she did those amazing things or why she said Hadara was a devil child because she made impossible things happen. Hadara loved it even if it was a bad, evil, devilish thing that she shouldn't do, even if it was against their ignorant religion.

It was one of the few things that made her feel happy and strong. Her powers kept her safe and protected her.

\----------------------------

**_August 4th, 1984_ **

Every Saturday, Wool's Orphanage was open to the public, free for eligible couples to scrutinize in hopes of finding a child to love and care for. The children in question, particularly the young ones, look forward to this day knowing that it provides a chance for them to find a loving family.

Alice Cole sighed, highly distressed. Her sister had chosen the worst of days to binge drink herself sick. Now, Alice was left to deal with the day's work, which was taxing with it being the most hectic day of the week.

Less than pleased with this development, she was quite unsentimental and ordered all of the workers to assist in making certain the children were looking presentable.

In recent years, adoption rates for children within orphanages had lowered even further, meaning that more children came than left. Hopefully, the lord would smile down upon them and today would be more successful.

Perhaps the absence of Agatha and her ignorant tampering meant that the potter girl would finally be rid of? One could only hope.

Alice certainly wouldn't interfere if this were the case. The girl had become a bit of a prodigy, all things considered. It would do well for her to go to a better-off family, and it would certainly lessen her stress load if she were to never have to see her again.

With a heavy sigh, she went back to her rounds, ensuring that no mischief went about.

\---------------------------

Glowing with happiness, Hadara smiled down at her new dress. It was cherry red, one of her very favorite colors and it had pretty little flowers stitched into it. She'd made it by looking at an old pair of socks she'd found and thinking really, really hard until it changed.  

She thought the dress was very pretty with the rose she put in her hair. No one else had anything like it, which made it _special_.

Today, she made sure she looked very pretty because she was going to try and meet her new family. Then, she wouldn't have to be alone anymore and nobody could pick on her.

She had always wanted a family for as long as she could remember. Of course, she knew she had one once, but she didn't think they'd mind it if she found another that she could love. Hadara hoped that they would like her even if she was a freak. Maybe they were different and would even like her freakishness.

"Everyone downstairs now!", came the yell of one of the workers.

Hadara stiffened before sighing and making her way down to where the others were messily lined up along the halls. She took her place at the very end of the lineup, dodging the feet that were stuck out to trip her.

The older kids were particularly unpleasant, no doubt because their chances of being adopted were lessened by all of the younger kids. People always wanted younger, cute children, especially the smart or athletic ones.

Hadara hoped that someone would want her. She knew Agatha said bad things about her so no one would want to adopt her, but, maybe it would be different with her gone.

Watching for the doors, Hadara waited as they remained empty at first but were soon filled by potential parents.

\-----------------------------

"Look at this place Daniel, it's filthy! I feel bad for these poor children", Amelia Warren hardly resisted the urge to scowl at the state of the orphanage facing her, closing the door to their sleek black Porsche with more force than necessary. It was truly terrible the conditions the children were living in, but this made her all the more prepared to adopt a child.

Her clear sapphire blue eyes and luxuriously curled blonde locks were remarkably out of place with the dreary black gothic style building, but this didn't stop her from continuing onward past the gnarled metal sign reading 'Wool's Orphanage' with its share of missing letters.

Daniel, a tall man of burly stature and handsome looks, merely gazed lovingly at his wife before taking her hand.  

The Warrens were quite an affluent couple, both having been born to rich families with their hands in the medical businesses. Amelia and Daniel were high-school sweethearts and got married shortly after graduation, a real delight to their parents who were more than happy to merge their formerly competing companies.   

However, despite their happiness and success, it was found out shortly after their exchange of wedding vows that Amelia was unable to conceive. Despite this, they dearly wanted a child to raise as their own.

Unfortunately, there were very few orphanages left in Britain which meant that they had to resort to this particular one, dark and dreary as it was. Still, they would find a sweet little girl whose life they would bring out of poverty and bless with love and happiness.

Upon entering, a woman with displeasingly wrinkled features and a stern brow welcomed them. She fit the whole atmosphere of the place well with her less than joyous disposition as she introduced herself as Alice, but Amelia did not let this ruin her hope and continued forward. 

She greeted the woman and she told them to feel free to look around and inquire as they wished. So, the couple set out among the masses to find a darling little girl who was ready for a family and a chance for love. 

They didn't have to look for long before their eyes were drawn toward a rather small, shy little girl at the very end of the line-up. Amelia gasped quietly, before nudging her husband. "She's a gem, isn't she?" She immediately caught her eye, the girl contrasting heavily from the sea of grey garments. 

Daniel grinned. She was indeed, with her sparkling green eyes and cute little dress. "She's just perfect."

Amelia was determined to meet the little angel, and, yanking on her husband, she marched right on up to the matron and requested a chat with her.

The woman's disposition switched from a strained, harsh one as she adopted a look of surprise that morphed into a slight smile. "Not a problem at all. I'll arrange a space in one of our rooms...Now, which child were you speaking of?", She questioned pulling out several papers- lists with dozens of names and bits of info beneath them. 

"Her", Daniel answered, gesturing to the girl in question with his grin that seemed to grow by the minute. His excitement was mirrored by his wife, so much so, that, lost in their excitement, they failed to notice the rapid tightening of the woman's mouth. 

" _Hadara?_ Are you sure you wouldn't like to meet with the others first?", The woman questioned, the disdain in her tone going unheard. There were many other perfectly good children. Ones that deserved homes more than her. But, the chance of ridding them of her burden and the whispers about her strangeness was far more important than what she thought, so she let them continue forward when they both assured her they were quite serious. 

Alice stopped a couple of feet from the girl and turned to the couple, forcing a smile, "Let me speak to her beforehand, just to make sure she's comfortable."

The man and women nodded, agreeing.

"It will only be a moment", Alice stated, sweeping away. 

Hadara had been blind to the exchange and was caught by surprise when Alice suddenly appeared before her with a severe, menacing stare. Carefully looking up from the floor where her eyes had been glued, she scowled at the close proximity between her and Ms. Alice.

Alice, her expression only seeming to tighten as she leaned down to her level, whispered carefully but threateningly to her, " _Girl_ , I need not remind you you've already caused enough problems with your behavior as of late. I hope I do not need to remind you again that it will not be tolerated. Do your best to impress these people, and you will be well out of here."

Though she used words most people Hadara's age wouldn't' understand, she knew that the girl understood her meaning. 

"Fine", the girl agreed, her voice abnormally high and cold and face devoid of any outward emotion. Inwardly, she worried terribly what would happen if she didn't make them like her, as this was likely her only chance of getting adopted while Agatha was gone. 

When Alice went back to the tall man and the pretty blonde woman, and Hadara straightened herself up, putting on a mask of shyness and smiling tentatively when they reached her. 

Amelia reached out her hand and pat the girl gently on the head, her smile soft but confident, "Hello there...Hadara was it?"

"Yes, Mrs", She answered, fiddling with the hem of her dress nervously. 

"What a pretty dress that is! Where did you get it, darling?", The man asked her, his grin good-natured. He made Hadara feel very, very small with his height, but not in a threatening way like how the other kids did. 

Peering up through her bangs, she peeked at the man and offered a small, sheepish grin, "I forgot."

Amused, the woman tittered and offered her hand to the girl, the rather large diamond on her finger glittering under the dull lighting of the room, "We would like to talk to you for a bit. If that's okay with you...?"

Hadara paused a moment, not used to so much contact, before reaching out and hastily placing her own within it when Alice glared at her. 

She trudged behind the adults, allowing herself to be lead along by the pretty woman and enjoying the waft of perfume that came from her. She was quiet on the way up the stairs until they reached a room, one she recognized as being the room where some of the workers kept their things. Sometimes kids would go in and steal from their purses. 

Alice pulled out a long key out of what must have been her pocket and unlocked the door, beckoning them within and only offering Hadara a quick but lingering stare before she left them on their own. 

There was a table with a couple of chairs situated around it and a nearly empty candy dish placed in the center. Around the walls were various shelves holding unlabeled folders and binders, and a couple of sets of hooks with purses and coats hanging on them, no doubt belonging to the younger volunteers and workers. 

The woman gracefully set herself down in a seat, and her husband followed. They made a welcoming gesture for her to follow and she took the empty place in between the two, reaching for a piece of candy. 

"This is my wife Amelia, and I am Daniel. We saw you and we wanted to meet you", the man said, taking a piece of candy for himself, smirking despite his wife's disproving shake of her head. 

The woman reached and gently patted Hadara's head once more, running her hand gently across her face. Her eyes were a little wet and she spoke shakily, "We want to take you home and make you part of our family."

Hadara's eyes became great green saucers. She was actually succeeding! Even though Alice told her to do it, she really did want them to like her. If they took her home, she would never have to go to the orphanage again! She would have her own things, no one would be mean to her, and, maybe she would have a family!

She really had to impress them. They had to take her! If they didn't, she would have to stay.

"Hey. I can do something!", she blurted out. 

"Oh? Really, what is it?", the pretty woman teased good-naturedly, interested but not expecting much. 

She suddenly became unsure. _It_ was the reason no one liked her. What if they didn't like _it_ or her anymore when she showed them?

"We'd love to see it.", the man interrupted her train of thought, reassuring her. 

Smiling slightly, she nodded and held out her two tiny hands while they waited, watching in interest. 

Hadara took a deep breath and started drawing _it_ from within.

Nothing happened at first, but, slowly, the lights began to flicker and become dimmer before nearly going out completely and leaving the room in semi-darkness. Somehow, her green eyes appeared to glow ethereally. Before the shocked couple could speak, strange lights began to appear in the girl's palms, and, those lights became shapes, more and more distinct. 

There was a great explosion of color before from her hands there flew outward countless birds. They weren't physical, but, rather light made of every color of the spectrum, glowing brightly and zooming around the room in vivid flares and flashes of colors. The couple, speechless as they were, found themselves going dizzy at the speed they- whatever they were, traveled. 

It ended in a brilliant show of silent fireworks, bombs of light and colors covering the ceiling and raining down in sparks. Hadara, having broken out in sweat through the feat, quickly sat back down and the lights once again turned on, all left as it was before the strange, impossible act. 

Hadara grinned brightly despite the fatigue, looking up at the couple. They had to really want her now! She'd actually pulled it off. No one could do that. No one was like her. She was _better_ than the rest of them. They had to see it!

She expected her talent to be met with awed smiles, cheers, and _love_ , but, this was not what she saw. 

The woman held her husband's arm in a harsh grip, her lips trembling and her eyes wide- not with love, but fear.

"Wh-what exactly w-was that?", her husband stammered out, gone was the look of excitement and welcome, and with it was shock and wariness. 

Hadara felt her heart drop into her stomach, apprehension filling her up as she struggled to explain, "I-I could always do it, Don't you like it at all?"

Something like that couldn't be normal. What could it mean? Surely, they must look somewhere else, somewhere where there were normal children. "I-I think we should give the other kids a chance. It's not fair to only talk to one, right?", the man's brows furrowed and his jaw clenched when he reached for his wife and moved towards the exit. 

"D-don't leave! Please, I only wanted you to like me! Please, I won't do it again!", Hadara pleaded, reaching for the hem of the pretty woman's dress, only to be pushed off by the man. 

"You're not normal!", the man blurted, pulling his wife out of the door. 

"We h-have to go", The woman rasped, her face guarded and eyes wide, "I-it's okay."

Hadara was forced to watch as they left her alone, rushing down the stairs, and away from her. Her heart was broken when she watched them from the window, speeding down the street, far, far, away. They wouldn't return. They didn't want her anymore. Because she was a freak. 

They were nice to her, but, they changed when they saw what she could do. They were just like everyone else. She trusted them, but, they left her. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks, her eyes empty, broken as she curled into herself. She'd never been so crushed before. 

She struggled to stop the tears, but, suddenly, her mind went quiet. A whisper went through her ear and she felt the slightest trickle of _something_ cold and powerful flow around her, and, it was then she realized, "I don't need anyone. All they do is hurt me and lie to me. _They're_ the ones that should get hurt. I can do things they cannot. I am _better_. I won't let anyone hurt me again."

There was a cold, hissing laugh in the distance, but it was swallowed by the wind. 

\-------------------------------

**_ December 25th, 1984 _ **

Outside, the air held a teeth-chattering chill, the wind howling like a beast and stirring up the crystallized flecks of snow. With her rosy pink cheeks pressed against the chilled, condensed glass of a window overlooking the baren white outdoors, Hadara ignored the excitement and chatter around her. 

It was Christmas evening, which meant that the entire population of the orphanage congregated inside the tiny mess hall that smelled of mold and dust, as it hadn't been used since the last Christmas, and hadn't been cleaned since who-knows-how-long before that. 

The so-called festivities somehow managed to be disappointing despite Hadara's lack of expectations, to begin with. The 'decorations' were just cheap flimsy strings of red baubles hung over the mantle of the dingy fireplace, which happened to be the only source of heat, and, as a consequence, was surrounded by many trying to warm themselves of the cold air drifting in through the cracks in the walls.  

As for the Christmas feast, it had been nothing more than half a cup of watered-down milk, a thin cut of dry, tasteless ham and a glob of slimy gravy with some vegetables that had been wilting for sometime before the cook decided to use them.

Hadara instead snuck out while everyone was filling their guts with the slop. She carefully avoided the many workers milling about and crept to the special pantry that the matrons and volunteer workers shared.

She'd frequently ransacked it when the cooks refused to feed her, or when the others took her food, but she was especially excited as she eavesdropped and heard mention of there being some special treats stored from the baker down the street. 

Soon finding herself in front of the locked door after a short journey through the halls, she concentrated on it and _wanted_. There was a soft clicking noise as the entrance swung open, and the light high up on the ceiling lit itself after she merely gave it a look. 

Hadara mustered a cold smirk as she took in the shelves lined with sweet rolls, thick cuts of cheese, jars of sweet-smelling jams and fruits, and the wrapped apple pie that she could smell from all the way on the very top shelf. 

Sister Alice always preached that stealing was wrong, that it was a sin, but, it was fine if no one saw; She knew she wouldn't get any presents, so, this would do.

Smirking, she reached out her arms and lether powertake over, satisfied when her legs began to float up high in the air, her body weightless as she levitated up to the top shelf, commanding the treat to fly into her arms. 

Once safely on the ground, she dug into the pie with a small smile, neat but ravenous as she tasted food that she actually liked for the first time. Hadara ended up getting through two pieces of pie, a slice of cheese and a sweet bread roll when heavy footsteps made themselves known outside of the pantry door. 

Knowing that she would be punished both for stealing and breaking the rules, Hadara quickly shoved the pie onto the shelf and willed the light to turn off. Soon after the bulb went out with a wink, she hid in the darkest corner, making sure she was quiet and focused on molding with the shadows, a new trick she learned.  

With a groaning creak, the battered door was yanked open and light flooded in, revealing the unpleasantly wrinkled features of Sister Agatha, with her narrowed eyes and sharp, mean features. Hadara's head shot up from the cradle of her arms, and, she tried to hide the gasp of shock that came when she realized just who had caught her, but Agatha had remarkable senes for being such an old bat. 

Hadara knew well enough that Agatha hated her very much and wouldn't hesitate to punish her severely when she saw her breaking any sort of rule. She did the only thing she could do, and, lifted her palms while she concentrated really, really hard, wishing for _it._

Sister Agatha's eyes followed the slight movement with her sharp eyes, "Who's there?", she growled, her walking stick raised threateningly and teeth bared in a terrifying snarl as she reached for the light switch. 

She never touched it. Hadara stared in slight shock as Sister Agatha appeared to tense before crumpling and falling to the ground with a great thump, seizing all movement. The woman became much like a statute with her angered face and stiff limbs frozen in time. 

Hadara glanced down at her hands, breathless as she felt the flow of something powerful growing within. Quietly, breathlessly, she took one last look at Sister Agatha and sped out of the pantry and up the many stairs to her room. She expertly avoided anyone milling about, creeping back into bed long before she heard the other's do the same.

It seemed she was getting even better at controlling it. 

In the dark with just the muted tones of moonlight peeking in from the lone, rather dingy window, her room looked even barer than it was. Walls a mix of both tile and stone enclosed her within the small space with the little bit of furniture the government money bought. But she didn't think about it much, as long as she didn't have to share a room with anyone else she could live with it.

As she drifted off to sleep, thoughts quieting, entangled in the thin but always warm sheets, her hand curled around the gnarled wooden frame of her cot, fingers reverently tracing the harsh yet elegant lettering carved deeply into its surface.

'TMR', it read, a monster under the bed like any other. That same cold, powerful feeling enveloped her. She slept peacefully. 

As the snow continued to fall silently and winter came and killed, all that remained was the stain of a single crimson rose among the blank white canvas that was the outside world, its color a red as vivid as it had been in the seasons before. 

\----------------------------

**_December 26th, 1984_ **

Sister Agatha was found in a pantry cupboard, seemingly passed out though, unfortunately, the cause of such was unknown. Hadara had to hide her laugh when she heard one of the teen workers scream at the sight, no doubt thinking the very worst of the situation. 

Gossip and rumors ensued as to how the old wench had managed to get so incapacitated or why she ended up in a pantry, of all places. Some people thought that her ever-present drinking got so out of hand that she landed herself in a coma for the night and that this was yet another example of the woman's incompetence.

There were even whispers of how she was shaming their already tarnished reputation and that this was a good enough reason for her to be fired from her position. Yet, it seemed that no one was going to say anything of the sort to Agatha's face.

That being said, it did not help her predicament any less when the matron woke up covered in pie filling and still unable to recall her actions from the night before. Another rumor of her having lost her sense was added to the mill when she started muttering things to herself. 

With a smug grin, Hadara kept to herself, going through the heap of daily chores that had been forced upon her a few weeks before by none other than the woman herself. She was one of the youngest, and nearly thrice as smart as the others. Already, she had finished the schooling the orphanage offered and was ready for year 5, despite her age. Yet, she was stuck with arduous tasks simply because Agatha didn't like her.

If she didn't have the...certain abilities that she did then it would have taken her ages to finish it all, but, thankfully, she got done rather quickly with a few subtle waves of her hand and was freed from the cook's suspicious gaze to go do as she pleased. 

\---------------------------

**_June 4th, 1985_ **

Hadara wasn't allowed to eat anything all day long and she couldn't go outside, either. Ms. Agatha locked her in the cellar with nothing to entertain herself with, where it was cold and dark and smelled much like Agatha- mildewy and foul. She wasn't scared of the dark or anything dumb like that, but she was angry.

She was always being punished for stupid reasons, even if this time it was something she had actually done. Though, it wasn't like she had meant for the stupid shed to set on fire.

Abigail Jane, a particularly annoying 6-year-old, recently made it her mission to ruin Hadara's day. She tripped her, kicked and slapped her and stole her things. She pushed Hadara to her limit of patience, and, she decided to show her who she was messing with. The fire had been meant for her head, and while it had singed her hair and left a rather nasty burn on her smug face, the gin Agatha kept not-so-secretly stored within the shed had caused quite the large fire.

The woman not only beat her with her cane but also forced her to go through an exorcism, where she was forcefully strapped to a chair and had to listen to useless incantations, as a bid to get rid of her freakish powers. 

It didn't work of course. It hadn't the other four times, either. The only thing it had done was strength her hatred of the fools around her and left horrible bruises on her arms that hurt though they immediately healed. 

After the process and the priest, a _good_ friend of Agatha's, left, Hadara purposefully displayed her healed bruises to the matron, a cold smirk enveloping her lips as she left the hag spluttering alone. 

Hadara glared furiously at the thought of the woman and watched small orange flames flicker into existence onto each of her ten fingertips before dying out.

\------------------------

**_ June 31, 1985 _ **

It was her birthday, though she didn't know why it mattered, as she had yet to ever have received a single present. She also had no one to spend it with, though, even If she had, she wanted nothing to do with the fools around her. The only reason she even remembered it was her birthday was her blanket, which had the date stitched into it- a date that she had carefully memorized every day, long before she even knew what the numbers meant. 

That blanket had been the only thing she had that connected her to her parents before it was snatched away and given to one of the loud, ungrateful infants that arrived a few weeks prior. When she'd found the blanket missing and that it had been given away, she had been so angry that she had all but ran to the nursery.

Glaring daggers at it in the baby's fist, she watched in satisfaction as it ripped to shreds, the infant crying and screaming out until one of the women swept in and attempted to hush the squirming thing.

If she couldn't have what was rightfully  _hers_  then no one could. 

On her last birthday, quickly getting sick of not getting anything new when even the other, stupid kids were, she demanded to know why only to be struck on the cheek and locked down in the cellar, Agatha's yells and snarls of her being a "Spoiled little brat" heard even down there. 

Hadara knew better now than to expect anything from anyone, and, simply resigned to spending her day like any other, though, at lunch, she couldn't help but glare angrily at Milly Barnes. She was a couple of years older than Hadara and just so happened to share the same birthday as her, only she was currently unwrapping the present that should have been Hadara's. 

Oh, how she hated  _sharing_ , even if it was just a birthday. Sharing meant that the two were equal, which Hadara knew wasn't true. No one here was equal to her, and they never had been or would be. She was always going to be better. 

Hadara frowned at the stupid smiling girl from afar, when, suddenly the plain but delicately wrapped present burst into flames, the baby pink paper curling in on itself and becoming nothing but smoking ashes. The girl leaped away from the gift with a yelp, clutching her hand, where a rather nasty burn made its mark. She wasn't smiling anymore. 

In the sudden rising panic of the room and the blaring siren of the fire alarm, no one saw Hadara Potter's wicked smile carved into her cheeks much like the name carved into the wood of her bed- cruel and possessive. 

\-------------------------------

**_August 18th, 1985_ **

Hadara had started practicing 'it' even more lately, trying different things when she was alone in her room on the very top, a drafty floor of the orphanage where the others rarely went.

Unlike everyone else, she didn't have to share her room because no one wanted to be with her. She gave them nightmares, whispering inside their minds and making them see things that weren't there until they couldn't sleep and screamed and thrashed all night long.

This wouldn't stop until they were taken to a different room while the workers muttered about her under their breath- not nearly as quiet as they think they are.

Hadara let out an undignified snort just remembering the fearful, pale look on Mrs. Agatha's face when she interrogated her about the girl that had been terrified of the dark, having suffered several panic attacks after just a few hours of rooming with Hadara.

After the matron told her about this and went on an irritatingly long spout about how she was an 'unnatural little freak' and that her parents had been right about abandoning her, and hadn't received anything but a blank, cold look from the girl in return, Hadara had been yanked down to the cellar where she was subjected to a beating from the old hag's cane.

The pain was barely noticeable as she was used to it, but, Hadara had a very hard time holding herself back from strangling the women or letting her power loose on her. She grit her teeth so hard she thought they'd shatter.

It made her feel completely disgusted being handled in such a way by someone so far below her, but, no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn't lash out. She had to let the women think that she was beating the 'freakishness' out of her, or else she'd follow through with the endless threats of sending her to a mental institution, of which there have been more of lately, no doubt due to her antics after the exorcism. 

Hadara was only a girl and, even with her power, there wasn't much she could do to stop the delusional matron. Not unless she wanted to be kicked out of the orphanage or sent somewhere even worse than this dirty, disgusting place.

Carefully, she cast away those unproductive thoughts, took a calming breath, and buried her endless anger towards her tormentors deep inside, going back to practicing what she was best at- the impossible.

Since a short while, after she had turned 2, there were many things Hadara gained the ability to do. They were talents of a sort; things that boring, ordinary people had no capacity to even think of.

Her abilities started out simple and mostly accidental; with things like levitating light objects, spontaneous fires, blowing things up when she was angered, making things disappear and reappear, making her hair grow or change color, and other inconsequential things of that nature.

But, as she grew a little older, she began learning how to control those powers, and not just those; she learned how to make virtually anything happen just by simply willing it.

She could do anything she put her mind to, be it anything from vanishing things, causing pain to those who bully her, levitating herself, controlling animals, to transforming the threadbare rags she had into fine pieces of clothing that the others tried to steal.

She was different; a freak, a monster...an abnormality among the horribly plain people around her.

They could beat her, punish her, ignore her, starve her, steal from her and insult her, but someday, she would make them all pay for daring to disrespect her, daring to lay their filthy hands on her, their superior.

The humiliation would be a very distant memory when she had everyone bowing at her feet.

\---------------------------

**_December 13th, 1985_ **

Ms. Agatha yelled and raged for many hours, hurling insults and threats until her hoarse voice was nothing more than a grating whisper, all of her anger and spite directed at her favorite target- Hadara Potter.

The poor girl's ears still rang from the matron's banshee-like screaming even after she quieted. And if a pounding headache wasn't already enough to deal with, Agatha, when she was done breaking everything in sight and screaming insanely, then dragged Hadara out of her office by her frail arm, amidst the curious stares of the other children, and down to the cellar.

Her crushing grip left harsh purple bruises on the girl's wrist, though they healed only seconds after the damage was done- not that it really mattered, as Agatha was far too focused on her task of beating some sense into the wicked, ungrateful brat that it wouldn't help the girl in any way.

No, the brat would learn _._ She would learn to never do those supernatural acts again.

Hadara cried out as she was shoved down the concrete steps, falling on the floor as she held her unmarked wrist, gasping in pain before attempting to run to the door and away from her attacker, only to be swept up and thrown back to the ground by the seething woman, who then brought her gnarled wooden walking cane down on her ankle, shattering it as Hadara let out a deafening scream.

Like a bomb detonated, Agatha's fury rose to a breaking point as she rained heavy blow upon blow down on Hadara's still form, cracking bones and tearing pale skin open as blood spattered with each hit, the girl's weak coughs and the terrible crack of her thick wooden cane smacking against skin the only sounds heard in the empty darkness of the cellar, which was bitingly cold from the frosty winter weather outside.

'What have I done to deserve this', thought Hadara, watching impassively as the vicious beating went on, no more tears on her hauntingly cold face- her eyes an icy, unfeeling green. Her body hurt, very much so, but, Hadara had realized that crying served no purpose for her. It never fixed anything or gave her what she wanted- which was simply for the woman to just leave her alone.

She was more than smart enough to know that would never happen, not as long as she was what she was. A freak. She'd learned it once, from that couple who rejected her. And, she started fighting back, but it wasn't enough. She needed to be stronger, so they would be the ones below her,

Agatha would always hate her, for whatever reason she could conjure up in that ugly head of hers. A good example of this was today, the reason for her current ire; she had caught Hadara practicing her ever-growing and changing powers out in the snowy field behind the orphanage.

Hadara hadn't been hurting anyone or doing anything particularly bad, but, when it came to the head matron, anything out of the normal was bad, so, Hadara's protests and denial of having anything to do with the scorch marks on the ground and the lack of snow in the usually snowy area was dutifully ignored as the woman spent hours screaming that she was a 'worthless freak', among other things.

The girl found that she didn't care much about what the woman was screaming about.

It all became awfully repetitive after the dozens of times she ended up in trouble and berated for anything and everything, though that, too was actually them who did this, as she much preferred to enact her revenge quietly when there was always a target on her head and narrowed eyes following her every movement.

 Hadara had spaced out during Agatha's ranting, which led to where she was now- on the frozen, musty floor of the cellar, being beaten like some weak, helpless fool. Not that there was very much she could do about that; She couldn't set the woman on fire, even if she wanted to, because then she would be locked up someplace for murder, like that one older kid who shot someone and got sent to prison.

She was too weak. Helpless. It was disgusting.

As she looks up at the beastly woman, though, she wished Agatha would just die. Then most of her problems would go away. It didn't matter what the woman did to her, now, though. _It_ would protect her, more than the workers and other adults who didn't care one bit about the constant ill-treatment she was subjected to.

 _It_ always protected her. It kept her alive, and she knew it always would. But, she just had to get stronger and learn how to do more to protect herself, so, she could make Agatha feel the pain she felt. It was only fair, after all.

What was it they called it at mass? Repenting for your sins?

Agatha Cole, with sweat and exhaustion rolling down her hideously pinched features and her yellow, crooked teeth bared into a snarl pulled tight like the trigger of a gun, watched both with innate horror and wrath bubbling so hot in her gut it was suffocating as the freak began healing right before her eyes. The deep gashes on the girl's legs and arms knitted themselves closed until the skin was perfectly unmarred as if it were stitched by a professional.

"Devil child, I'll send you back to hell!", she yelled, voice rattling in her throat, and cane poised for another strike, only to find that the brat was no longer on the floor, but instead was standing, a few feet to the left of where she laid, her demeanor entirely cool. She moved without using her legs, like a flash of light.

She had done it again-that trick. The matron had witnessed her do it before, but, no one believed her, not even her sister. She was the only one who ever saw what that girl did.

The bones in the girl's ankle were perfectly fine, or at least appeared so, as she was standing without a limp. Though that girl was an abomination and was capable of things beyond human- beyond normality. Not even another baptism could save her from her faults. She needed to be exorcised, again, and soon, lest her sickness spread to the normal children.

Agatha growled a noise resembling that of a rabid animal and swung her cane forward with the intent of knocking the Potter girl down to the floor and finishing the job, only for the heavy hunk of wood to meet a solid resistance with a loud thunk.

To her horror and surprise, when she looked, she saw the wood in Hadara's fist encapsulated in a circle of fire, the wood cracking and becoming ash beneath the heat within seconds. Before the woman could so much as scream, the air around her became smothered with heat, stealing her breath from her throat and leaving her clawing at it for breath.

Suddenly, the tiny cellar became engulfed with demonic green flames jutting outward from the girl's palms, expanding into great figures resembling that of giant hooded serpents and leaving nothing but piles of ash in its path. The ominous green light from the fire flickered off of the grimy stone walls, and Agatha felt her stomach churn in horror at the sight.

The air was alight with a foreign electricity and when Agatha's horrified gaze shot down to the girl and took in her cold, cold eyes- cold despite the heat and the hellfire winding around her small figure, she felt a feeling so terrible that she was locked in place and unable to run from the onslaught of heat and flame.

And, so she fell victim to the sweltering, unimaginable pain, the last image seen of eyes- wide, green, and swirling with a red so dark it was almost black. And in the red, there was power...power unlike any other. Vile, an evil power. 

How foolish they were to think this monster could be saved...


	4. Ashes to Ashes

Thick black smoke billowed out of the smashed cellar windows, smothering the frosty winter air and cloaking the sky black. Firefighters were lowered into the cellar while being connected to harnesses and such, searching frantically through smoke and debris for the victim. 

The blaring sirens and flashing red lights of police cars and firetrucks both were a blur to Hadara, who, perched elegantly on a bench across from the scene, had her face buried in a book she'd lifted from another kid's school bag before the whole ordeal. 

Truly, reading was one of the few things she enjoyed doing. It had been a large part of her life, as she learned around the age of three which was significantly earlier than most. Recently, she made of habit of spending as much time as possible away from the orphanage, which meant scouring the local public library shelves for whatever she could get her hands on. 

Perhaps it was the habit of reading that she adopted at a very young age or the ridiculously large, highly difficult piles of school work that was forced on her from the instructors at the orphanage, but her work and scores were exemplary and they recommended that she skip forward a few years, insisting that she was far too advanced in comparison to her peers. 

This didn't go over quite well with the older kids who were terribly jealous of her and the talents she exhibited. Even now, when the apparent "gas leak" ravaged the cellar she could feel their hateful eyes on her, but she made sure she mirrored to look back. 

It was rather funny, she thought, impassively watching the large crowd of children witnessing the damage control. They were so jealous of her, but they made no move to make themselves smarter, yet another piece of evidence that they were just as useless as they seemed. 

The workers, coddling the others and offering them blankets and such, made no move to even spare her a glance. Alice, however, leveled her with a calculated glare, one that Hadara merely dismissed, far more focused on the policeman she was speaking to. He kept glancing suspiciously at her amidst their conversation, as did Alice. Before she had time to prepare, the man nodded diplomatically a few times at whatever the woman said before turning towards Hadara and making a move to walk over.

A pang of nervousness made itself known in the hollow of her throat, but she ruthlessly swallowed it down and remembered what she had been practicing; her mask.

Early on, Hadara knew that she could do strange things, things that weren't accepted by normal people, especially adults, who weren't to be trusted. This meant that to gain any sort of trust or to lie her way out of situations, she had to be innocent, harmless. Stupid in the eyes of an adult. 

She plastered on an angelic, pretty little smile and made her eyes wide, as if in shock of the whole situation. Carefully, she lowered her gaze solemnly and even slouched. 

The fool didn't notice the change, naive, as he knelt down to her level, frowning but making an effort to seem approachable. "Do you mind if I sit here?"

She made a show of delicately lifting her head, eyes widening slightly in awe at his uniform peeking out of the large navy overcoat he wore, "Y-yes, officer."

He grinned broadly, reaching a burly hand out for a handshake, which she shyly accepted as he took his place, "I just wanted to speak with you a for a minute, Hadara if that's okay...?"

She nodded excitedly, curls bobbing wildly with the movement, "Can you tell me about being a policeman?! Please?"

He chuckled, relaxing back against the cool, taking the bait, "Sure thing. It's a very rewarding job. I feel like a superhero when I help save people, even if it's hard sometimes. Have you thought about what you want to be when you grow up, yet?"

Hadara gasped in a childish display of overexaggerated shock, "A princess. Obviously."

He laughed, clutching his belly through the coat, "I see."

"Is Ms. Agatha gonna be okay, Mr. policeman?", Hadara shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat, clutching the ever-warm material against the cold. Her eyes watered slightly and her voice faltered at what the man presumed was grief and worry. 

Gone was the lighthearted grin, replaced with a deep grimace and worry lines on his forehead, "I hope so. They are doing their best to find her and save her", he gestured to the team of firefighters in their frenzy of action, "Were you close with Ms. Agatha?".

Hadara could see the questioning tone of his voice, which, though lacking any suspicion from before, was still serious enough that she was careful with what she said next, "I like her a lot. She teaches me things and takes care of me. I don't think Ms. Alice likes me much, though. She hits me a lot."

The abrupt shift in the man's expression and the concern blooming in his hardened eyes was promising, "What do you mean she hits you a lot? Why would she do that?"

Her sigh became crystallized in the cold winter air, and she shivered, "I-I don't want to get her in trouble. She told me not to tell anyone." 

He took a glove covered hand and patted her shoulder, now glaring angrily at the woman in question, "I won't tell her you told me. I promise. But I have to know."

"Pinky promise?", she questioned, dark brows furrowed and lips pouted in all seriousness. He offered a half smile and held out his pinky, which was much larger than hers, "Pinky promise." She smiled, all things innocent and angelic in the snow that began to fall softly and wrapped her pinky around his, nodding. 

And, so she told him, made up tales of how Alice had hit her with her with pans and slapped her, and locked her in her room without food. The sadness in her tone was so convincing to the man that he was immediately convinced that any sort of accusation from Alice Cole had been nothing but a fictionized tale of her trying to put her blame on the poor little girl. Perhaps, it was her that even had something to do with that fire. 

After she was done telling him everything she could, tears and all, he felt very bad for the poor girl and offered her a hug, promising to come to visit her and give her a ride in the police car, and some sweets. 

Though he left the young girl with a smile and a promise that she wouldn't be hit ever again and that she would be just fine, his expression was positively livid when he marched on over to the horrible women in question. He informed her that, though there was no absolute proof of the abuse, he would have a _very_ close eye on the woman, and that, in the event that he found anything in the slightest wrong with the girl, that woman's freedom would end right there. 

She played the act of being confused very well, but, he was a policeman for a reason, and he offered her absolutely no sympathy.

What he failed to notice was the livid side glare Alice shot at Hadara, and the smug, poised smirk she got in return. 

Hadara chuckled quietly to herself, amused. She really managed to turn the whole thing around, though it wouldn't have mattered either way. There was no proof she was even the slightest bit involved in the fire, as, even she didn't know how she'd managed to summon such flames. After it swallowed up the entire cellar, and Agatha lay under the flames, she was careful to return to her room, oblivious to the flames ravaging the basement. 

She pretended she didn't even notice the kids being rushed outside until one of the workers begrudgingly informed her. Hadara knew that if they hadn't desperately needed the funds the government provided for her care, they all would have gladly left her behind and watch her burn. She'd been the last one out, after all. 

Truly, the joke would have been on them, though. That fire would never harm her. It was part of her, obedient as any pet. She could put them out now and spare them of the hassle, but, it was rather cold out, and watching the horrified expressions around her was rather amusing. 

Now, as the firefighters struggled to tame the strange, wicked green flames, one emerged from the window frame before being lifted carefully out of the smoking debris and ash. Gasps filled the smoky air, and Hadara's eyes narrowed in on something that appeared to be cradled in his burly arms. 

It was quite hideous, what remained of Agatha Cole. Really, Hadara thought Abigail's scar was gnarly, but, the smoking, charred limbs burned right down to the bone and mushy pink, insides took the win for that. 

Her face, ugly as it had been before, was now damaged beyond repair, Her features were barely recognizable as being human. They looked waxy, distorted, melted together, and truly scary.

Hadara's chest filled with remorse, even for _her_ , but, she pushed it away. When the workers caught sight of what was once their matron, now without any sign of life, they gasped in shock, reaching to turn as many children away as their arms could reach. 

Nose wrinkling at the pungent smell reminiscent of barbeque, Hadara still couldn't bring herself to look away. Though the woman was dead, as proven by the black body bag they placed her remains in, she still watched. 

Though she felt some guilt, she decided that Agatha deserved what she got. It was self-preservation, and Hadra wasn't going to allow herself to get beaten every day until it led to her death. She lost control, yes, but she was better off now. All it took was power, and she took down the monster that haunted her for many years. 

\--------------------------------

It took hours and hundreds upon hundreds of gallons of water rushing from their hoses, and countless firetrucks to put the fire out, but, the area was eventually cleared and caution tape was strung up around the cellar and its windows to prevent any more tragedy. The firefighters, exhausted and confused, proclaimed that the fire was indeed a very strange one in that the fire had not spread to the upper floors of the orphanage, as if was pre-contained to the cellar.

The children and workers alike, after hours out in the cold and many getting sick from the smell of charred flesh, were free to return inside once it was checked out and proven to be safe. 

Some workers and children remained on that corner, distraught, crying, praying, or just out of shock. Agatha Cole was dead. Of course, Hadara Potter didn't seem the slightest bit affected, proving to Alice that her freakish abilities her sister so frequently complained of just may have caused this. 

Alice Cole, hit by a flurry of emotions ranging from shock, fear, worry, and anger, watched the crowd silently. However, anger became much more prominent when she spotted William Anglesey, the priest at the neighboring church, in the crowd praying. He had the audacity to bring his wife, it seemed.

His distraught look was not a surprise to see, as he and Agatha were close. Too close. Their sinful affair was no secret among the gossiping workers, who whispered to each other even now, after her death, about the bottles of liquor and the nights Agatha's office was strictly under lock. 

It was shameful, sinful, and tarnished their reputations. Alice lectured her sister about her senseless, promiscuous activities and the lack of discretion, as well as the repercussions of such, in the name of God and in the name of their mother who left them the orphanage.

Her sister's death was a pity, bit, Alice wouldn't pretend she wasn't the slightest bit relieved now that there were few chances of bringing more disgrace to their already struggling orphanage. Agatha was careless, ignorant, and a fool. Her punishments were far too flashy, her addiction was hardly kept hidden, and she had no idea how to deal with misbehaving children in a discrete, effective way. 

Now that she was dead, her soul condemned to hell, Alice was now free to allow a better functioning institution, one that was better disciplined. 

Her sister had been right about that Potter girl...she would have to be disciplined in a way better than the beatings, now that that dreadfully dimwitted officer was against her. 

She was unnatural...it took long to realize it. Alice thought the girl was just violent because of her druggie of a mother, but, this was not so. Only weeks before the fire, Alice witnessed her doing something unexplainable. 

It had been a particularly stressful day, dealing with the neverending troubles that came about with both the workers and the children, when she looked out of the third story window and happened to see something that shocked her. 

Alice, weary, believed she was simply hallucinating from the stress load, only to blink and the image remained. 

There, on the ground below her was Hadara, a blot of black against the white plane of snow and ice. From any lower, she wouldn't have been visible due to the tall piles of snow, but Alice saw her and watched what she was doing suspiciously. 

Her arms were outstretched, but, there was something in her palms, something swirling upward at a very high speed. Squinting, Alice focused, only to gasp in shock when she realized that it was _water_. 

That girl held water in her palms, from where, Alice had no idea, but she held it and she _manipulated_ it. It danced, moving fluidly around her, twirling around her arms, shooting outward from her hands, and crystallizing in the frigid winter air, only to form large sharply pointed icicles when she flicked her wrists. They were horrible, sharp enough to pierce through skin and organs. 

Alice, at a lost for words, grasped the cross chain that hung around her neck, whispering a hushed prayer. She faltered when those icicles went sailing through the air, embedding themselves in the ground, and Hadara, reaching toward the sky for something unseen-something wicked, pulled her arms down and jutted them outward, a torrent of snow and ice smashing down to the ground. 

If what Alice had seen was real, she didn't know what she could do to stop the growth of the freakishness within the girl. But one thing was for sure, she would do whatever was within her power. 

\--------------------------------

"I'll bet you had something to do with this, _freak!_ " accusatory and shrill, the voice came hurdling at her. It belonged to Jacob Adcock, one of the nasty older kids who held a strong dislike toward Hadara and frequently showed it. Following him were his two cronies, Oliver, and Noah Reed. They were brothers and were somewhat closer to Hadara's age, being 9 and 7 years old. 

Hadara, who had been on a walk to the library trekking through the snow, wasn't the slightest bit interested in their bullying antics. The orphanage still smelled like smoke and death despite the hour that past, so, she decided to go to the library and talk to Mrs. Patterson. She was the old librarian who just adored Hadara and constantly gifted her books, handmade sweets, notebooks, and the like. The public library had become her favorite place, especially since Winter break had begun and the school library was inaccessible until break ended. 

"Oh? That fire...No, a real pity, though", she shot back, carefully spinning backward on her heel and stopping them in their pursuit, "If that's all you wanted, I'll be off."

Oliver sneered viciously, "No. You did it! Your weird little powers set the cellar on fire. And now, they're gonna catch you and you're gonna go to prison."  

Hadara had a good laugh at that, clutching her stomach despite the three glaring at her, "Who's going to turn me in? Not you idiots."

"Wanna bet, _freak?_ No one will care. In fact, they'll thank us!", Jacob fired back closing in on her. 

"Everyone wants you gone. You're a witch and you're gonna go to hell!", Oliver continued, a nasty grin displayed on his ugly, dirt covered face. 

Hadara, after becoming more annoyed by the minute, began to feel _it_ begging to be free and to be let loose on the boys, to hurt them. She glared coldly at the two and warned them with a frosty tone, "LEAVE ME ALONE!"

They looked at each other, before laughing at her.

Her eyes narrowed to chips of icy venomous green, and the winter air began to get even colder, "I said. Leave. Me. Alone."

"Why don't you just do us all a favor and die, freak?!", Jacob yelled, jabbing his finger at her while Oliver stepped closer, sneering, and spit in her face. 

The air suddenly became freezing, nipping and biting at them. Hadara's eyes began to glow unearthly, and, when she wiped the wetness off of her cheek, their jeers pushed her to the edge. 

A blink, and, they lay screaming in pain on the ground, their bodies contorting unnaturally and eyes rolling in the back of their head. Hadara could only think of pain, making them feel pain, intense, _horrible, aching, pain_. 

She let go of her control, letting _it_ flow unbidden, powerfully into them. She whispered in their heads, telling them evil, terrible things. She made them see what wasn't there, made them writhe in fear, thinking there were spiders crawling over their bodies, or fire surrounding them. 

When they began to quiet, in a mess of their own tears, urine, and sweat, she freed them, and merely curiously gazed down at their defeated forms, before she continued her walk to the library, whistling a haunting tune. 


	5. Serpentine

**_July 12th, 1986_ **

She dreamt soundly of hissing whispers, wind rushing harshly through her ears, a cold, vacant laugh, and the same beautiful red-haired woman with eyes a shade of green much lighter and kinder than her own. 

The dreams- repetitive as they were, offered a break from the same dull life she lived every day. In her dreams, cryptic as they often were, there were endless possibilities. They were not simple or boring but vivid and in some ways magical. So, when she was forcefully ripped from the hauntingly familiar gaze of crimson eyes, she glared icily at the source of the noise; a rapping knock at her door.

When the knocks continued and increasingly got louder, she huffed irritably. The sun assaulted her emerald eyes before she threw her blankets off and reached pale fingers outward, pulling a robe out of thin air that she slung carefully around her.

Sighing out of frustration she climbed out of the tiny bed and, in an entirely uninterested manner, called out, "Who is it?"

Visitors were an extremely rare, unwanted occurrence. If anyone was stupid enough to bother her or so much as enter her vicinity, it was usually Alice who attempted to get her confessions of whatever she did or didn't do, usually involving an 'accident' that bode unfortunate circumstances for whoever decided to test her that day. 

Alice was never successful, rarely got so much as a word out of her, and was often ignored altogether. Sometimes, if Hadara was both in a patient and boring mood, she would play with the woman's head- use her tricks and such until she was left as a stuttering, confused mess. 

Given the time of the morning, one would assume she was being summoned for breakfast, but this was not it as she was given the tiniest scraps of rotten food when she used to bother with that sort of thing. Now, she prefers to sleep in or take a walk to the local grocer, where she would steal or buy with stolen money that which caught her eye or roused her stomach. 

"Sister Alice is speaking in the mass hall. I suggest you make yourself presentable." There was a whisper that followed this statement; a hushed prayer from whatever poor soul was asked to come and inform her, to enter her vicinity. Hadara was quite surprised Alice even cared enough to let her know about whatever was going on, but, she was probably going to bask in all the compliments of her generosity and how even the freak was included in it.

Hadara scoffed, "Presentable...like those nauseating pigs are anything short of _revolting_." 

Unwilling to lower herself to their sub-par standard of hygiene even out of spite, Hadara merely went through her usual morning routine which ended with her methodically lacing up her shiny black boots and running a brush through her long, equally black hair. It seemed as if it had grown even longer overnight.

Her hair was quite beautiful with its thick ebony strands that nearly reached her knees. There was miraculously never a hair out of place, as it fell in perfect silky waves that reminded her of what an ocean would look like reflecting the night sky. It had once been curly, in ringlets that formed right at the root, but slowly formed into the pretty waves she'd come to love after being weighed down by the sheer length of it. 

However, her brief admiration of this feature was cut short when the scar on her forehead came into her line of vision as she peeked up at it. 

She hated the ugly thing- wished for it to disappear every day. It was the only scar she had, and, though it was faded, she still loathed the sight of it. The rumor was that her drug-addicted, circus freaks of parents carved it into her head as part of one of their acts. Hadara couldn't say she completely believed this, but it was a possibility. 

Finally, after glaring at the mark for many long minutes, she frowned heavily and left the room, beginning her descent down the stairwell. It wasn't long before she reached the bottom and entered the last room down the hall where she was attacked by Alice's harsh, ear-ringing voice. 

What she was rambling about, Hadara had no idea, but, the entirety of Wool's seemed to be gathered around her. They all looked rather confused as the woman had the tendency to go off on tangents, but they were listening intently.

Since the woman took up the position of head matron after the oh-so tragic death of her _dear_ sister, there were various changes that made themselves apparent within the year. There were new rules, an entirely new set of workers, who all practically fell over to worship at Alice's feet which was funny given that they were all Catholic nuns meant to worship only one god. 

Alice, unlike her sister, actually pretended to care about the orphanage and the children. She managed funds significantly better, providing better clothing, more nutritious foods, and other necessities such as a few new building upgrades. None of these applied to Hadara, other than the bathroom that was installed on the floor she resided on. Though, She knew this was only to prevent the others from having to share a bathroom with her, lest they contract whatever freakish disease they thought she had. 

This set of changes required very little on her end, as they were funded by the money given by the government to care for them, but happened to bring about new feelings of adoration from locals and such, who claimed that she was generous and kind-far better than Agatha Cole ever was.

These compliments and donations, celebrations of her loyalty and hard-working nature were the only real reason behind her efforts. She cared not one bit about anyone but herself and the attention, sympathy, and gifts that were given to her. She only wanted to better her reputation by using her 'achievements' and the few solemn achievements of her wards. 

Alice was similar to Hadara's own school teachers who greedily ate up all her record high scores, perfect marks, fluent languages, beautiful art pieces, and the shiny golden medals shallowly displaying these gifts, only to credit everything that she did to their own teachings. It was funny, on the same day, one would speak on her behalf when praised on her intellect, only to impassively watch as her classmates slammed her onto the lockers and threw her lunches away later on. 

When she took a seat at the back of the hall, it was with a barely hidden sneer at the woman perched at the front, standing taller than anyone else. Perhaps she was similar, she looked out only for herself, stealing what she wanted whether or not she needed it.

She took wads of cash and coins from the purses in the staff room, sweets from the nearby bakery when they made their weekly visits to the busier street where the others spent their meager savings given to them by Alice for "good behavior". 

Hadara had never been rewarded with those sorry pittances, but she never felt lacking when she waltzed into the bookshops and purchased £80 worth of books ranging from subject to subject before shrinking them down and hiding them amongst her belongings. 

Now, she thought about pulling one out and burying her head in it as Alice continued rambling on about "Privileges" and something else Hadara tuned out. She became increasingly peeved when a girl seated behind her began kicking the back of her chair incessantly.

She came inchingly close to making her tip over with the wave of her hand when Alice suddenly wrapped up her drivel by saying, "And, we will be bringing all of you, below the age of 13, to the London Zoo tomorrow at 1 pm, sharp. I suggest that you all tidy your rooms before you leave or you will not be allowed on the bus. We will be inspecting." She fixed a terse glare upon them all before returning to whatever cave she crawled out of. 

Funny that only the younger children were invited. It seemed that Alice's well-known disdain for the trouble-causing teenagers that resided within the orphanage and had never gotten a chance at escaping its grasp was rearing its ugly head once again. 

There were significantly fewer teenagers than younger children, but the few teens that there were happened to be involved in various gang affiliations, drug running and such. They did whatever they could do to scrape together cash in hopes of leaving the dump. Most of them were shot and killed or convicted.

Alice would've kicked the rest of them out if it weren't for the extra income they generated and the kudos it got her when a teary-eyed bystander noted what was assumed to be a caring nature towards them.

Hadara found them a nuisance, especially given their frequently annoying behavior and egoistical manners when all they had were guns and threats, but they had given her few opportunities to which she was somewhat thankful for. The first of which was a basic knowledge of fist-fighting. 

While she had her abilities that were deadly as they were strange, it was with watching groups on the streets beating each other bloody that she learned how to fight using her fists and knives. This, with a combination of using a punching bag for practice, made her able to physically defend herself if need be. This was an ability that she thought was quite important, though she'd likely never have to utilize it. 

Second of these opportunities was dealing with people- or rather cheating them. It was with witnessing drug dealings hidden in alleyways and parking lots at night while she blended among the shadows and their threatening, hoarse speech washed over her that she learned the art of conning someone. This was easily the greatest knowledge that she held because she was able to lie cunningly her way into deceiving someone.

Options made themselves known to her, she could present herself as an innocent young girl to trick clerks into bestowing upon her their goods as a gift. She could make people think of her as a sophisticated young girl despite her upbringing which shifted the focus off of the knowledge of the violence and chaos she caused to those who did not respect her. 

With this, she built upon the mannerisms, masks, charismatic nature, and ambitiousness that she'd cultivated since the beginning of her memory when her treatment was even more horrid and her fingers grasped for the chance to prove them wrong and to watch them bleed. 

As people deserted their seats with the end of Alice's drivel, Hadara quickly got up and fixed the girl that had been irritating her a menacing stare before leaving. She watched in satisfaction when she began to quiver, the chair beneath her seemingly shaking back and forth of its own will. 

Once out of that stuffy room, she returned to her room and began to fancy the idea of visiting the zoo as she'd never been before. At least something decent came out of Alice's narcissism and attention-seeking manner. Well, either way, she held absolutely no interest in being conscious any longer, as her being awake would increase the chances of Alice changing her mind and keeping her at the orphanage with the teenagers and workers while everyone else went. 

She waved her fingers over her attire and sank into her bed when she was once again fitted in pajamas of fine silk spun right from her fingertips. 

\---------------------------------------------

**_ July 13th, 1986 _ **

True to her word, the bus arrived at exactly 1 PM. Where or how she managed to rent a bus, Hadara had no idea, but she made sure to get up and ready earlier than usual. She managed to sneak a couple of items from the pantry before breakfast began getting prepared. An apple, two oranges, and a sweet roll were happily consumed by her. 

When it was finally time for everyone to pile into the bus, Hadara pushed and shoved her way through the horde of smelly rodents and onto the very back of the bus, which soon became horribly crowded. There was just barely enough room for the 50 something kids.

Hadara watched in amusement as two fought over a seat toward the front, only for Alice to get on and force them both to sit on each side of her where they remained silent and tense. Luckily, no one was stupid enough to try and share a seat with her. Some even forced themselves into a group of 4 on a three-person seat. 

Hadara simply pulled out a book from her rucksack and entertained herself. 

The London Zoo was a short distance away so Hadara glanced out of the window every once in an awhile, frowning when they passed her school. She'd been at the school for a while, but she still hated it as much as ever. The teachers were sub-par and she taught herself more than they ever could, not to mention the fact that she was forced into classrooms with people at least 4 years older than she after having been moved up two years, twice. 

Many people wished to see her fail, as it was an insult to them that a newly turned 6-year-old should be in their class. Hadara, of course, would not fail, as she was too clever and studious for that. But, she faced bullies, who tried stealing her homework and gossiped about her daily. She knew this year would not be different, but she was no longer helpless and had no issues defending herself or scaring them away. 

The bus skidded to a halt and she was cut from her musings, the volume of the passenger increasing in excitement telling Hadara that they had arrived. Closing her book, she stuffed it in her white velvet rucksack and peeked out of her window. She noted, with some pleasure, that it was a busy day and she would be able to disappear for a while without any of their company. 

With that specific ambition in mind, Hadara slung the bag over her shoulders and managed to push her way out of the bus, bypassing Alice who was drilling rules and codes of conduct and such into their heads. She gave little inclination that she noticed Hadara's passing. 

Hadara marched up the admissions booth and handed the sweating teenage boy working it the ticket Alice passed out earlier that morning before getting a red stamp on her hand and being let in. Truthfully, Hadara didn't know where to start as she was assaulted by smells and sights and sounds. It really was a large zoo. 

After walking a little and enjoying the exercise, a sign pointing towards a giraffe exhibit caught her eye and she decided that would be her first destination. She liked the creatures and thought they were interesting. This was belief was strengthened when one of the animals walked up to her and allowed her to reach her arm over the fence and pet its head for a while before stalking away. 

She was even able to sketch a picture of the giraffe, taking out her sketch pad and drawing every one of its spots until it was a near-perfect copy. After getting bored with her subject, she walked around the other exhibits and sketched each animal she saw until she had at least a dozen different ones. Rather quickly, Hadara's forehead dampened with sweat from the sun beating down on her. It didn't help that she was so far unaccustomed to the wrath of the sun on such a bright day, very much unlike the dreary weather that typically plagued London. 

Soon, she found herself uncomfortable despite the layer of sunscreen she slathered over her skin and decided that it would be best to seek a private area where she may conjure a parasol or something equivalent. The masses of people moved around her and icy green eyes searched around the structures that housed different animals, looking for the least crowded among them. 

It seemed that the reptile exhibit was the least populated- empty, in fact. 

Out of habit, an alabaster digit reached upwards to tap her lip in thought. She'd always held a certain fascination towards serpents, after all, both Alice and Agatha preached that they were a symbol of evil. They said the same of Hadara. So, how could she not be interested in the creatures? She found herself quite interesting, too, or at least the gifts she'd been born with. 

However, she'd been planning to visit them last- a finale that she would have greatly enjoyed. 

Sighing, Hadara stopped contemplating the matter. She had at least another hour. So far, she'd seen several different animals; giraffes, zebras, several penguins, two regal-looking tigers, an ancient tortoise that heavily resembled Alice, a particularly lazy sloth that hung from the limb of a tree, and a black chimpanzee. She even had the pleasure of seeing the same chimp whip dung at a little boy who had been taunting it. 

That had been the most definite highlight of the day so far. 

A hearty chuckled ripped from her throat with the remembrance of that scene, however, she was impeded from reminiscing once again as a strange noise broke her out of her thoughts. She stood at the mouth of a cave-like structure that housed the reptiles, as advertised by the worn sign nailed above the two rough-hewn doors that creaked when she pulled them open. 

Something, or perhaps someone, spoke. Their words flowed with an undercurrent of hiss-like dulcet tones as if the speaker were foreign. Be that as it may, Hadara was more than well versed on the subject of foreign languages- she was fluent or nearly so in as many as 14. However, she did not recognize what language was being spoken, yet somehow understood what was being said. 

How could someone understand a language they'd never learned? Horribly curious, the girl continued into the area and followed those strange words into the darkness. 

_{I smell a rotten little human, Ashmul.}_  a low voice intoned. 

Cool green eyes sharpened into a cruel icy glare when their beholder took note of the cave-like structure with low ceilings and musty dampness, empty of people. Large glass cages built into the walls housed reptiles; serpents, lizards, the whole bit. 

Someone from the orphanage was playing a stupid little trick on her, that or she had finally gone insane. Both options were viable, as all throughout history, it was known that most gifted peoples suffered horrible afflictions that either marred their consciousness, something that would be proven if she were hearing voices without reasonable cause.

It was more likely, though, that the other orphans thought she wouldn't retaliate out of fear of being denied the opportunity of participating in the rest of the field trip and made up a fictitious little act to frighten her. 

They severely underestimated her. 

_{Ah. It is another human...and here I thought we scared_   _the last of them off for the day.}_ came a deeper voice. 

Hadara listened carefully for where the fools were speaking from. She would strike after the next voice came. 

_{That is a human...but she smells different.}_

Ah. As she'd predicted, there was more than one of them. 

"I knew someone would pull something. How predictable." Her eyes glinted with malicious intent, reaching outward and unfurling her hands revealing a burning cluster of green flames in her left hand and a small orb of viciously swirling water gleaming with glassy shards of ice reflecting the dim lights hanging above in her right. 

_{Show yourselves or else.}_ she warned them, unknowingly speaking the strange language as the air grew alight with a scorching heat that maintained a shatteringly cold undercurrent of wind. 

_{The girl is a speaker.}_ yet another voice interjected just before Hadara let her power loose. 

{Stop, child!} the deepest of the voices called out, all harsh sibilant tones. 

Confusion marred Hadara's features, allowing the opposing elements in her palms to dissipate into thin air. "Who are you?!", she demanded, nearly panting from the force it took to bring that power to her and to force it away when it wanted blood and destruction. 

_{Come closer and I shall tell_ _you_.} 

Cautiously, Hadara did so, only to find herself filled with confusion when all that she found was one of those glass walls enclosing within it one of the reptiles. A closer look at the creature within revealed it to be a snake. A very large snake. 

'Male: Brazilian Rainbow Boa', was written on a plate of glass in front of the enclosure. The snake was gorgeous, that much was certain. It had brown and tan intricate scale patterns and under the shoddy lighting, it had a beaming sheen of rainbow-like color that was appeared almost deadly in comparison with the largeness of the snake. It had to be at least 7 feet long.

But, surely this was some sort of hallucination...snakes couldn't speak, at least to humans. It went against all logic. 

As if mocking her, the boa did exactly that, _{You're a speaker...If you hadn't tried to kill me, I would say it was an honor to meet you, child.}_

When the shock was made apparent on her usually composed face, the others made their voices known. 

_{A speaker!}_

_{How very rare, indeed!_ _}_

_{I haven't spoken to one in ages...}_

_{She must be a gaunt...}_

Rearing up from its lazing on the gnarled branch in its enclosure, the boa hissed ferociously at the others, whom the girl noted with a gulp were watching her with slitted eyes and long fangs.

_{Enough. I will speak with the child and only I!}_ A tongue flitted out of the boa's jaws as he watched her carefully- almost curiously, If such an emotion were possible. 

Hadara sensed that this wouldn't be a short conversation. She had many questions and as such, tilted her head ever so slightly, the doors to the area slamming shut and a 'UNDER MAINTENANCE' sign hanging itself outside though only she knew it was there. 

_{How is it that you can speak? Am I going mad or is this simply an extension of the other things I can do?}_ she questioned. 

The snake made a noise that Hadara could only explain as laughter, though it was more of a strange mix of intakes of breath and airy hissing that vaguely resembled a laugh. _{No child. You have a gift...a gift that other witches and wizards can only envy. You're a parselmouth.}_

"Witch...?" Hadara blubbered like an idiot. A witch? Was that what this serpent believed her to be? Was it true?

Despite what the priests and nuns tried to say about snakes being evil creatures, Hadara was fascinated by them and did believe that they were intelligent, but, how could a snake that likely was held in a glass cage for most, if not all of its life know such things, especially about her, an orphan girl. Sure, the whole talking snake thing was preposterous of its own right, this was just becoming ridiculous. 

_{Witch? I'm no witch.}_ She shifted on her feet, crossing her arms defiantly, _{What would make you think such a thing?}_

The snake slinked across the branch and moved forward, its face so close to hers that she swore she could feel its tongue flicking across her nose, its slitted amber eyes on the same level as her own. 

_{What is your name, child?}_

Hadara could somehow sense the desperation in its tone, but stubbornly responded, _{It's rude to ask someone's name without giving yours first, and, I'm sure there's something useful in our conversation for you, so you'd be better off following that rule.}_

A hissing chuckled came and Hadara joined in with her own, finding the whole situation humorous with how absurd it was. 

The boa then leveled her with a stare as if looking into her to see if she were worthy of such information and she must have been, as he replied simply _{Jormungard, my name was given to me by my former owner before the other humans captured me. My owner was a witch, not a speaker as you are, but a witch all the same.}  
_

Jormungard's voice was terribly sad and angry, so much so that Hadara felt a pang of empathy for the snake- foolish as it was. She, too, knew what it was like to be in a place, trapped and alone with no one to care about your existence. 

This gave her a rather brilliant idea, though she was sure that the serpent had this in mind as soon as she made herself known. Green eyes narrowed mischievously and her lips curled up into a smile much like the serpents. 

_{What is it, child?}_ Jormungard's head bobbed questioningly, watching for deceit in a mistrustful manner.  

Hadara grinned something sharp and twisted, _{You want revenge too, don't you? I would after that...they took you from your home, and the person you cared about, only to lock you in a cage in the dark, forgotten.}_

Jormungard hissed his agreement, albeit suspiciously. 

Hadara rocked back on the heel of her shiny black shoes, still grinning. _{I can get you that revenge; set you free and let you torment those who keep you locked up in here.}_ There were excited hissing whispers asking, begging for freedom, but she kept her eyes fixed on what was undoubtedly their leader. 

_{What do you want in return, then?}_ Jormungard asked her, distrusting but interested. 

Hadara offered a brilliant, charming smile, _{I want knowledge. I want to know whatever it is you know about me and 'witches' as you claim I am as well as your former owner. And I, too, want revenge.}_

_{You're cunning, childe. But forgetful. What is your name? I believe I told you my own.}_

Hadara's cheeks heated in embarrassment as she, unfortunately, was not cold-blooded even if her actions said otherwise. _{Hadara Potter.}_ Strange...to hear her name spoken in such sibilant tones that rolled off the tongue unnaturally 

The snake bobbed his head, nodding, _{Childe, speaker or not, you must keep your word if I tell you all that I know, little as it may be_.}

The girl watched the large snake constrict threateningly around the branch, it nearly cracking under the pressure. She could kill him, easily...she'd killed for bigger and worse monsters, but, she feined a scared trembled, nodding over exaggeratedly. _{I will keep my word so long as I'm not harmed}_ she said, gesturing to the eager, impatient stares of the snakes that awaited in their cages. 

Jormungard agreed and told Hadara that he would answer any questions she would ask, so long as she was done before the Zoo workers shifts were over and his chance at revenge was foiled. _{Then begin...I have been craving my revenge for far too long.}_

The savagery in the serpent's sibilant tone was enough to convince Hadara to ask her first question, _{What is is that makes you think that I am a witch, of all things?}._ Perhaps there were better ways of phrasing the question, and maybe it was a stupid thing to ask when considering all the possibilities. But, Hadara knew seldom about herself. She didn't know her parents, what her middle name was or even if she had one, where she was born, if she had any siblings if any of her distant family knew where she was, etcetera. 

At the very least, it would be nice to know why it was that she could do the things that she could do even if she didn't completely buy into the fantasy that the snake was selling. 

Jormungard leveled her with an almost diplomatic stare before responding in his harsh, deep tones, _{Those powers you hold...they are the powers of a witch. I know simply because my former owner had a fraction of these gifts that you hold. I can understand basic human speech, in whatever language is being spoken...she used incantations for her magic, but that is the only difference in how it was performed.}_

_{Your birth givers, they must have spoken with you about this?}._

The snake's question was born from simple confusion but Hadara's visage, so full of curiosity, went cold. 

_{I have no parents. I am an orphan and have been one for almost all of my life.}_ Her tone was detached and frosty. 

Jormungard showed no sympathy or feeling for a misfortune that was not his own, as his kind was not sentimental unless directly concerned with themselves or their owners. He merely bobbed his triangular head. 

Hadara deliberated to herself. The way that the snake spoke made it seem as if her abilities originated from her parents, but that was obviously a blatant lie. Her parents, or at the very least her mother, was a druggie, likely a degenerate from a gang, cult, or a circus, so the serpent lied or did not know and was guessing incorrectly. Most likely it was the latter. It was interesting that he could understand different languages, though it raised more questions. 

_{Then, for my next question. How is it that I can speak to you? Is this one of my gifts? And is it possible to speak to other animals or is it only serpents?}_

_{It is a blood gift, childe. This was passed down from Salazar Slytherin himself. It is the highest honor, with it you may speak with serpents, summon them, keep one as a familiar, and perform parselmagic if you are worthy and of age.}_

Hadara was beginning to have more doubts, what with the nonsense Jormungard spoke of, but she humored him, simply for curiosity's sake. 

_{Salazar...who is that?}_

_{You will learn of him, in school when your letter arrives.}_

Jormungard was getting impatient as proven by his responses growing shorter and shorter, but Hadara would not uphold her end of the bargain until she was wholly satisfied. Even the many other snakes practically pressed against their glass cages and watching intently did not spur her. 

_{I sense your restlessness, but I have two more questions...and I will not set you loose until you answer them wholly with as much information as you have.}_

Jormungard's tongue flitted out in what was likely impatience and irritation as he bared his fangs menacingly toward her. She didn't react, remaining unfazed before he appeared to agree. 

_{Fine, childe. Before you ask your questions, you must describe the one you want revenge upon so that I may send one of the serpents after them. And do so quickly, there is not much time left.}_

A smile tugged at the corners of Hadara's lips as if she'd tasted something sweet, _{She's an older woman...with greyish hair and a nun's outfit- all black with a covering surrounding her head. At her chest is a cross necklace. Her eyes are dark, and she has prominent wrinkles.}_

_{Are there other witches like me, then? And if so, how many are there approximately and where do they dwell?}_ Hadara lived her life thinking that her existence was extraordinary, that she was the exception, an abnormality among humans. If there were others, where did that leave her?

_{Yes, childe. There are many, hundreds of thousands of them. I do not know the exact numbers, but there are both witches and wizards. You need only seek them out using your gifts, or await them finding you...}_

A scowl tugged at her smirk, overtaking it with a deeply unsatisfied feeling, but for time sake she left what she'd been told alone without debate and asked her final question. _{How can I become stronger and control it better? Is there a limit to what I can do?}_

Jormungard regarded her with a deeper level of respect. The child yearned for power. She was ambitious and cunning, too. She made him wonder, perhaps, if she may be the true heir...and what that meant for his race. 

_{That is something that you must learn for yourself. No witch or wizard is the same...their gifts are not mastered the same ways. What I can tell you is that there is not a limit to magic known...there are only the limits you set upon yourself and the limits to what you would do for power..}_

Hadara could not quite say that she liked his answer with its lack of real meaning, but she was struck with the feeling that the snake was not normal, not even by her standards. Perhaps it too had a mask on its presence, a facade cast by the former owner that made it appear ordinary...but it did not matter, not really. 

"Well", she drawled in English although the snake still appeared to understand, as it stated, "I suppose I shall set you all free now." And so, with the exciting blood-thirsty hissing that echoed within the cave, she raised a finger and watched as the glass confines of their cages shattered and blew apart ricocheted off the walls until a fine glassy powder that littered the floor. 

The many different patterned snake scales shined under the dim lighting as they slithered out of the doors that were now open once more and while Jormungard did little to even bid her farewell, she decided that she liked the creatures. They were cunning, intelligent, and uncaring. 

Hadara let out a soft sigh as she stepped out of the cave, the fist of many horrified screams breaking out all over the place. 

She went back to the bus after deciding it was best to leave the scene before it could all be pitted on her. She played naively and acted as if she'd returned after a bout of sun poisoning when Alice came back looking distraught with a thickly wrapped gauze around her left arm and leg. Harsh breaths rattled in her chest as she asked about her whereabouts, but she sat down in a seat and promptly passed out before Hadara even fully answered. 

When the bus was loaded once more with the traumatized children that were peacefully quiet except the occasional crier, they were on their way back to their own cage. Hadara was filled with more questions and more ambitions than before. Part of her wished that Jormungard would've come with her, even if it was just to another cage. 

Maybe she would try to summon one of the creatures to her as the snake claimed she was able to do. It was worth a try...

Hadara spent most of the ride thinking up ways to make this possible and imagining Alice's injury becoming infected with blackened flesh and oozing pus. She was sure that with as often as the image came to mind, the woman would likely suffer these results within days. 

Of course, no one noticed her deep concentration as they were far too busy gossiping over the events that had transpired once the initial shock wore off. Alice was 'bizarrely' the only one injured, but that did not stop the other women workers from faking stories about giant gaping jaws at their feet and the horrors they'd experienced. Hadara found herself wishing that she'd put all their descriptions up for grabs. The snakes would've probably complied if she'd just asked. What a pity. 

\---------------------------------------------

**_ July 31st, 1986 _ **

She'd done it! She'd done it! She'd really done it!

Never had Hadara been so satisfied! It'd taken over a week to manage it, but, she'd 'summoned' a serpent, as Jormungard called it. 

It was a tiny thing, just three feet long and nowhere near Jormungard's size, but she was quite friendly. Hadara learned that she was a ball python and that before Hadara made her appear before her, she was caged and ready to be sold at a pet shop somewhere in London. 

Hadara quite enjoyed her presence and immediately put together an area for her in her room with a glass tank set upon a table that was open on the top so she didn't feel trapped, and several branches and tiny trees for her own enjoyment. Hadara also made her a basking spot by taking a rock and willing it to always stay warm for her, much like she did with her blankets and winter boots. 

She decided on the name Suni for her yellow and orange patterned scales that were reminiscent of the sun. 

It'd been a good couple of days since she got her but she'd never been so happy. She finally had a friend of her own. She may not be a human, but Hadara thought of her as one. 

Suni helped her find and speak to other snakes that lurked around the abandoned fields and other areas. They told her things, taught her about their different species, and the things they'd heard workers and even Alice say. They looked out for her and she conjured mice and rabbits for them to eat and provided them someone to talk to in passing. 

They were not her pets, but her friends. They respected each other despite being different species, but she didn't coddle them or dote on them and they didn't offer her affection or anything like that. They were serpents, not a dog or a cat. 

Hadara had begun to get a bit of a strange accent when she spoke as if the sibilant tones of parseltongue had begun to taint her English and the other languages she practiced.  Luckily, she suspected the no one would notice as she hardly spoke to anyone now and it was only a slight difference.

Her words were saved for her serpentine friends, as they were true to their natures, unlike people. To a snake, it didn't matter how vile they were, they simply took what they needed in the most cunning of ways and left. 

\----------------------------------------------

** _September 18th, 1986_ **

The school year had been eventful so far despite just starting. She'd participated in a great many art classes and was learning to add emotion to her art, rather than simply copying what she saw or dreamt of. She furthered her talents by entering school contests voted on by teachers and she'd won three so far, piling up the prize money for the future ambitions. 

She managed to keep Suni hidden from everyone despite her always being near her- either hidden under a sleeve or a hood, and she'd met even more snakes with Suni's help.

Alice was oblivious to Suni's existence because she'd been hospitalized for many weeks after the small bite on her leg had _somehow_ become infected and, despite the diligent way she'd been sure to take care of the wound and the hospital staff that had watched and cared for it, spread through her body causing a pretty bad onslaught of symptoms and illness.

Hadara merrily watched the woman rolled off into an ambulance as the infection worsened through the day and she was forced to be hospitalized. With her gone for those several weeks, there wasn't much of an overall difference in daily life but it was in those weeks that she got any revenge she missed on the one who had deserved it. The workers who banded together to run the place in her absence were simply incompetent and far too afraid of her to mention anything or notice anything foul at play.

The revenge she'd gotten was on Jaxton Lewis, a fourteen-year-old that had been placed in the orphanage a few months before when his parents allegedly abused him until a neighbor noticed and they were convicted, with him dropped off after various foster homes proved to be unfit for his criminal behavior. Hadara thought he ought to have been sent back to them as he thought it was funny to harass her with nasty comments that were highly unpleasant in content. 

This made her sick to her stomach, but with Alice and the others constantly monitoring him to see make certain that he didn't become another gang member/drug dealer or whatever else to add to her shame, it was nearly impossible to scare him away or hurt him and he had not yet done enough for her to resort to a more dangerous option. Instead, she avoided him for months and put haunting images of sickness in his head whenever he came near. That is, until just a few days after Alice's hospitalization. 

He must have assumed that with her absence, he was allowed to do whatever he wanted because when Hadara was washing up in the shower that night, he crept into her bathroom and tried to tug back her shower curtain while she was washing the conditioner out of her hair.  

It was then that he found himself with a snake wrapped around his throat and its fangs lodged in it, his body suddenly petrified-unable to move when Hadara noticed him with a horrified stare.

Sickened by what he'd been obviously planning to do, she shook with horror that gradually grew into burning anger- anger that she let loose upon him. She wanted him to die- for looking at her that way when she really was just a child, even more of one than him. 

She lifted her palms open over his body, focusing as he was suspended high above the ground, and she walked until she reached the highest point of the stairwell where they could look up between the sets of stairs to see him when everyone would pass once finished with supper. She then tied a thick rope around his neck and told him to hang himself from the rafters above. And he did. 

No one particularly cared. The police commented that he was a troubled kid and probably would've died on the streets anyway. Most of the workers agreed, though somewhat apprehensively. The others murmured her name under their breaths before walking away. Some were indifferent. But no one cared. 

The firemen had to come and cut his hanging corpse down from that height, meaning that all the orphans had to be escorted away from the premises so as not to witness that scene which may cause trauma or whatever they rattled on about. They were taken to the bakery, which stayed open for an extra hour to accommodate the mass of children that were each given free sweets and coddled. 

Hadara disappeared amongst them and went back inside, hidden in the shadows as she watched them cut the dead boy down from the rafters. One fireman held the corpse with his arms stretched across the stair railings, pulling him to the side by his feet. The other carefully cut the rope from the other side of the stairwell. 

She smiled down at Suni who nudged her head against her hand and whispered faintly, _{Thank you.}_


	6. Gale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't a very long chapter, but after the horribly long break I took, I figured it would be nice to have something else for you guys. Thank you all for the support!

**_October 1st, 1987 _ **

_The earth-if it could be called such- was dampened, soil clinging to his tired, weakened body in clumps. Weak...it should never be used in a sentence regarding himself, the most powerful wizard in the world. Not one of his loyal followers had shown themselves to him, their dark lord, their master. There would be hell to pay for the great cowardice and traitorous doings that made themselves known in these days._

_He, the dark lord Voldemort, was forced to steal the bodies of pathetic animals, to eat rodents and bugs merely to survive in these useless serpentine bodies. Not even Nagini could assist him, his loyal companion...stuck without her master and lost to him for the time being._

_His wand- his very magic, was yet not accessible which was the greatest frustration that he'd yet known...a close second being the incompetent disloyalty his followers had revealed to him. Oh...they would be tortured and killed viciously. He would strangle them with their intestines, cruciatus them until they bled from their pores, burn them alive, set Nagini upon them, curse their flesh blackened, kill their wretched children in front of them and fill their minds with the worst horrors imaginable._

_They would indeed suffer for making a mockery of him, for no doubt scrambling to hide the deeds they'd done as death eaters and leaving their lord behind to plead the imperious curse, as he knew they'd done. They'd pledged their miserable lives to him- their master, their lord, the only meaning their existence held...and cowardice and betrayal were all they offered him. They'd made a mockery of HIM._

_And that child...that feeble, meager, worthless child would die. That pathetic prophecy would be broken and blood would be spilled...its limbs would be ripped apart and torn by more snakes than that which occupied this entire dreadful forest._

Hadara woke up with a start, gasping for air. A cold sheen of sweat covered her forehead and shivers wracked her thin body despite the warmth emitted by her blankets. The movement woke Suni, who slithered toward her, nudging her triangular head against Hadara's neck as a comforting gesture. 

Gradually, she regained her breath but her eyes remained heavy-lidded and stricken with rage that had no real reason or source yet took over her features as they twisted into something monstrously bitter. In the rays of distorted sunlight that peeked from her window, a cruel crimson red gleamed in her glaring eyes.

Her face- smooth and pretty as it was, had momentarily gained a twisted, taunt waxiness that pulled at her mouth and bent it into something inhumanly wicked. Her visage was not her own- but of another. It was a look that didn't belong on the face of a young girl. 

Before Suni could so much as hiss a concerned question to her owner, those eyes closed and the girl fell back quickly, seemingly asleep once again. If the serpent was capable of a breathy sigh, that is what she would've done, however, she went back to her nest and too, fell back asleep. 

Hadara awoke to feel rather strange as if her mind were in more than one place and her focus was diminished. Her body felt both light and heavy at once as if she were floating with weights upon her shoulders. It was an unfavorable feeling but it was not uncommon for her. She chalked it up to morning grogginess and low iron, but who knew if that was the truth.  

To her relief, it subsided shortly with her energy and focus growing greater than usual. 

Figuring that she was free of school for a week or so, she may as well work on her studies and art.

It would be a while before she would have to return as she'd taken her exams and scored far too high to remain in the same year level, resulting in the school scrambling to place her at a higher one that would be more suitable. This was not the first time that she was switched and it likely wouldn't be the last. She learned quickly- and memorized information exceedingly well...not like her school challenged her or her abilities at all, though. 

She didn't have a perfect memory, but it was nearly perfect. Already, she was in the same year as 12 and 13-year-olds when she was just 7, so the next switch would be an even bigger gap.

An empty canvas and her neat row of paints called her name and she returned her focus on the task at hand, disregarding thoughts of her schooling for the time being.

She couldn't say that she loved or even particularly liked the hobby, as she longed to see different surroundings to capture in her art. Nevertheless, drawing and painting passed time that would otherwise be spent counting the tiles on her walls or the rocks that lined her windowsill _(seven- they'd been there since she first got the room and she'd counted them over and over in the times before she started doing art to occupy herself.)_

Her room, though still barren, had slowly accumulated some things that added a bit of personality, even if she was tempted to change it- make it bigger or better looking with a swift motion or thought. She only refrained from doing so in a bid to keep herself out of Alice's sight. Ever since her return that was marred by the supposed suicide of one of her wards, she has been even more cautious in regards to her- not cautious enough to speak with her, but enough to watch her closely. 

Her wardrobe was the same one she'd always had, but now contained a large variety of clothing that had been raggedy, too small, and torn, but was now of high quality and thanks to her gifts. She couldn't say that they were the most stylish or representing her preferred way of dress, but they served their purpose. 

There was admittedly not as much variety of color in the clothing though, as she preferred blues, reds, blacks, greens, whites, and purples. She hated grey with a passion, as it was the main color worn by the rest of the orphans. Yellows, oranges, and browns were detestable in their own right, and pink was a nice color but far too cheery for where she was. Perhaps, when she left the orphanage she would get more pink clothing. 

It would be nice to buy clothes for a change, as even her creative ability was limited in regards to conjuring up images of clothing or whatever else and watching the objects change to fit her ideas. She would like to own something- to buy it and to have it and for it to be her own rather than made out of wishes or thoughts. Both were real but the other would be more satisfying. 

Her floor, though composed of rough stone and tiles, was made warm and soft thanks to a black rug covering it. Several books lined the bookshelf facing the end of her bed, organized alphabetically by author. her bed itself was a slight upgrade from the simple cot that she had but was still the same bed- just with another, softer mattress and blankets 

The walls were still a ghastly mix of cold tile and stone but now had a few shelves lined neatly with golden medals, trophies, and an array of colored prize ribbons. They were for academics, art, music, and science...even some inscribed with praise of her success in learning languages. She won nearly every contest that her greedy teachers placed her in.

After winning these contests, she was given prizes other than the trophies, like a beautifully carved violin of dark wood, a fine set of expensive watercolors, quality paint brushes, and a nice stash of money. Of course, she never actually received the violin, as it had "never arrived in the post." Hadara suspected that it'd either been stolen by one of the other kids or someone else in the orphanage and sold before she could even play it.

They must have thought that they'd hurt her feelings but at this point, Hadara was more than shut off from her feelings, with a cold, apathetic mask that she made to conceal her pain until it was so hidden that she couldn't feel it becoming a bigger part of her each time woke up at this place. 

Choosing to ignore these weak feelings, she unfolded her easel and watched as a canvas popped into existence to sit upon it. A table, small and covered with supplies such as charcoals, brushes, fine-tipped markers, pencils, etc, appeared nearby.

There was no use doing something unless its to be the best at it, something she firmly believed in. So, she set to work, drawing a forest that was no doubt from her dreams- the only interesting place she seemed to go. Greens, blues, reds, and, unfortunately, browns, blended together. Her hands were soon covered in that array of colors and smudged with charcoal. 

When she was finished with the drawing, she gazed at it judgingly, never really knowing what she would end up with when her hands were at work.

A forest, the sky a livid scarlet red, fog clinging to the edges of the canvas in a dizzying gaze. The trees were a shapeless blur, the ground a wet black soil with rotting corpses and skeletons of rodents littering it. The scene portrayed a great deal of death, anger, and frantic searching. 

Hadara thought it was a strangely obscure yet beautiful image. 

 _{Is this what was in your dreams? You were acting strangely while you slept.}_ Suni's smoothly scaled body glided across Hadara's arms until her slitted eyes were level with Hadara's own. 

Hadara gained a thoughtful look but smiled at the appearance of her favorite snake. A quick poke to her head gained a tongue that flitted against her finger affectionately. The smile widened generously and Hadara ran her fingers down the yellow and orange patterned scales, the snake's body coming to wrap around her arm, Suni's head resting in her palm. 

 _{Maybe. You know I don't remember my dreams as much anymore.}_ When she was a lot younger, her dreams were all she thought of. She could still remember those ones...the red-haired woman who was beautiful and kind...but didn't really exist. The man who hissed his words and had eyes that were redder than the woman's hair. 

When she learned of her ability to converse with snakes, she thought that maybe the man was more than just a dream and that his speech was actually parseltongue, as it was called...but if that were the case, she would've been able to understand what he was saying...and she simply didn't. 

Still, her acting strange as Suni claimed was a little weird...she never did anything like that before... as far as she knew. 

It was October, though and in October, stereotypical as it was- she felt strange. It was never the few glimpses of Halloween being celebrated outside of the orphanage that made her feel this...but it was more of an unseen force. Like her gifts; or her magic, if that was what Jormungard referred to it as. It existed and she didn't question it. 

Why she dreamt of an image such as the one she painted or why she acted differently, there was no reason she could find, so she left the canvas to dry and cleaned up. Deciding that she should go and get something to eat after her stomach rumbled threateningly, Hadara put on a coat and went to the nearby bakery. 

It was there that she bought a rather dry bagel smattered with clumps of overly sweet jam and cream. Eating at the orphanage was definitely no longer an option. The last time she tried to eat at the cafeteria, she was denied food and since then she avoided it. 

Truthfully, she didn't eat very much or regularly, for that matter. This contributed to her thinness. She was quite smaller than other kids her age that had a reasonable amount of baby fat. It wasn't that she didn't eat, but that the food available for her to steal out of the pantry, or get in other ways was not good...it was all nearly tasteless. It was lucky that she was growing to be quite tall for her age, and would not remain short due to the obvious lack of nutrients. 

She hated looking anything less than perfect, which was why she was growing her bangs to cover her forehead and the wretched scar on it. She'd tried countless times, but much like how she could never make food appear that wasn't already near, or could only make more food out of what was already in front of her, or how she was unable to make money out of thin air like she foolishly tried once...these strange limitations were the only things she knew she could not do. 

Hadara wasn't a vain person but she knew in some way or another that she was a pretty girl. That's why the scar bothered her so much...it was the only mark upon her body _-other than the small beauty mark just below the corner of her eye, which she actually liked-_ and it was ugly. 

Suni greeted her when she returned, sliding onto her lap where she lazed about. Hadara read for a while but found herself growing bored and it was when she dazed off into space, contemplating the limits set upon her that she decided to try something different- to test herself. It'd been a while since she was adventurous with her gifts. 

Her powers, gifts, whatever- they grew stronger each day, but Hadara was at a loss for what to do. How do you learn something that should be, by all rights and purposes, impossible? Jormungard said there were only the limits she placed on herself...so why not push it?

A grin enveloped her lips and she sat upon her floor, cross-legged with her hands resting on her knees and palms outward while controlling her breaths and clearing her mind. Without preamble, she felt it- the power and strength that flowed from within and pushed against her in a bid to escape and do her bidding. It was colorful but a shapeless mass, mostly green with small tendrils of red and black in the depths that swirled behind her eyelids as they slipped closed.

She was entranced by the beauty of it all. There was no one set place where it originated from, but rather, it was everywhere. 

The sensation of Suni's weight leaving her lap as she slithered off somewhere hissing about something was slightly distracting but she stayed still, simply letting the thrumming, tingling warmth settle into her skin. It was not unlike meditation, as she did it each day and found her focus particularly sharp afterward. She needed to focus on what she was going to attempt. 

Fire and water...she could control them to a point, but at times it was out of her control or simply draining...however, this didn't mean that she couldn't try something else, something new and possibly dangerous. Alice,-she told the workers that Hadara was a witch, a satanic witch. While she couldn't say that the idea of Alice burning in a fiery pit never crossed her mind, satanic worshipping had yet to become a past time of hers. 

But now, watching as the sunlight streamed through her window diminished and the clouds gathered into a cluster of black and grey, _she wondered._  

In each of her open palms, hissing, and crackling, there were small floating masses of black- as dark as her hair. When these mysterious masses came into contact with her eyes, they morphed into vicious jagged streaks of lightning that was reflected in the verdant green orbs.  They were pried open with wonder, greed, and love- a sick kind of love that was both obsessive and parasitic. 

Angry white streaks and claws of lightning grew with the presence of that love and devotion to the power within the lightning and behind it. It grew until the outside world that was ignorant of the tiny orphan girl in room 27, became flooded by a torrent of rain- freezing rain. 

It slid slowly in droplets down her window but hurled down on the roof in lasting thuds. 

She looked out at the abandoned warehouse, its ruins covered in muddy rainwater and slick with wetness within a short period of time. A quick look down at her hands and she saw that the appendages were without any marks, despite the storm that she brought to life.

Perhaps what Alice and the others accused her of and what Jormungard revealed were true- she was a witch. She'd read about the witch trials, how they killed all those women because they were believed to have been witches. But, if they were weak enough to allow themselves to get killed, or to even die at all, then she couldn't be anything like that. 

Suni appeared before her suddenly, her slitted eyes conveying her displeased and upset feelings. Concerned, Hadara untangled her limbs from her seated position and attended to her serpent friend. 

 _{What is it, Suni?}_ Hadara glided her hand across the smooth bright scales that were a true contrast when compared to the gloomy dark clouded sky, questioning her. 

_{I was out, listening through the floor when I heard that old land walker speaking of a trip. She told those women that she wanted to keep you out of it.}_

_{Told **who?** }_ Hadara's tone showed her irritation rather well in spite of the parseltongue language. 

 _{Those women- the ones she commands.}_ Disinterest in further conversation, the serpent took to her basking spot. 

"I forget how stupid she is." Hadara wasn't shocked by this revelation. The last little trip she'd been on went south for the old hag and, well...everyone else that wasn't her. The orphanage and its entirety were banned from the zoo and any further trips there. It wasn't that they knew who caused the release of dozens of snakes and deaths of a few workers, but that it was assumed that the person responsible was among them. 

Alice, once back from the hospital and emotionally drained from the suicide of the older boy that she missed out on, was furious and implemented a new rule that every child was to be placed in a group of five, with four children and one worker to stay with them at all times when they went on trips. This was to prevent mischief from happening with the watchful eyes of Alice's hags ready to report on any happenings.

Of course, Alice had to push the matter even further like the annoying maggot she was. 

Now, the children were expected to attend mass every day and to pray for forgiveness for any sort of trouble they may get into. Her goal was to supposedly guide her wards and to teach them of holy ways to act and represent themselves. It was a load of rubbish, in Hadara's opinion.

She cleverly avoided the congregations. They didn't care much for her attendance anyhow, but Alice tried many ways to force her into it with no avail. She tried guilting her by telling her that her parents hadn't been good, religious people and that was why they left her, only to be met with a cruel, chilling smirk and empty eyes. 

That day Suni relented to her the piercing screams and tears that came from Alice's office when she went in to find that her crosses were nailed upside down and every single piece of furniture was suspended within the air and wouldn't budge with all the tugging and frustration in the world. Only until Alice trudged to Hadara's room and miserably apologized to the nasty child, that her furniture went to its rightful place.  

The crosses, however, creaked and groaned, spinning on the walls and driving the woman mad for weeks on end. After she tried begging Hadara to fix them and to stop her wickedness, Hadara simply said that they were a manifestation of god disagreeing with her and his punishment...because she wasn't a good, religious person. 

It was a cruel act, but Alice's fear of being judged and tainting the pristineness that she loved to show the world kept her from ever whispering a thing about that particular incident to anyone... 

Hadara smiled a genuine smile that day...though it was more out of hilarity than happiness. 

There were other attempts to reign her into the life that Alice wished she would live of normality and religion of course, less willful or desperate but they continued before growing far less direct.

Now, It seemed that she was gaining courage again, with all the extra money from donations and her new staff of loyal fat heifers who delighted in her ignorance. But, now Hadara would have to teach her once again, that nothing would keep her from getting what she wanted. She knew about muscle memory, how doing something over and over again would allow for it to be engraved in one's mind. Someone would have to be sacrificed- but not Alice. 

Agatha got away. She was dead, out of Hadara's clutches.  

Alice was alive and not so lucky. 

It may have been Agatha torturing her all those years, but Alice was stupid enough to continue the tradition- to try and change her nature- to make her weaker. 


	7. The Call of The Void (l'appel du vide)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may be typos...but....yeah that's all I got.

_**October 6th, 1987** _

Suni, of course, was telling Hadara the truth- not like she would lie to her anyhow.

After simply listening in on one of the gossiping tart's conversations (the ones that took place just outside her office and usually consisted of rumors on who brought prepackaged goods instead of making them and who was scorned in the eyes of god or whatever else), she learned that Alice made an elaborate plan of ditching Hadara and going off on a trip for three days to some little seaside place where they would cook sausages on an open fire, explore the area and such. 

The women remarked that it was a lovely chance for the children to take a short break off of school while learning about the outdoors. And yes, the weather wouldn't be the best....but the prices for rentals would be very low given the time of year. 

Hadara, enraged, heard the 'plan'. The others would be departing on a bus while she was at school (clearly they hadn't noticed that she'd been off for almost a week and was in the orphanage while they openly conversed about this...or that she could very well take whatever days off that she wanted). 

When she finally got back from the walk to the dreadful place, they would be long gone with every room but her own under lock. Not a morsel of food would be available for her to eat- not part of Alice's plan but a personal attack from the cook who was a good friend of Agatha and believed that Agatha wouldn't have treated Hadara with the alleged patience that Alice did, but would've engaged in physical reprimands. 

Of course, after hearing this drivel, Hadara's anger grew. She smashed a nearby table into the wall that they leaned upon, subsequently terrifying the women and trapping them against it. 

Hadara stalked away, still hidden amongst the blackness and solitude of the shadows. It was then that she decided that she would most definitely be going on that trip. 

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**_ October 16th, 1987 _ **

Black fumes billowed out of the two buses parked in front of the orphanage- which was dreary and dull as always without any interference from Hadara's lightning. It was mid-afternoon but it felt as if the sun had only just risen. There were very few clouds latched around it, though the air still held the smell of distant rain and the stench of mildew that seemed to permeate the air as the building aged throughout the years. 

Masses of grey-clothed children moved to board the designated buses with beaten rucksacks and paper bags holding their belongings for the two-day trip. Alice situated herself in the very front seat and allowed her friend and co-worker Margaret to assign seats and buses to her wards while she remained inside the bus relaxing. The woman sighed contentedly, resting back in her seat.

She was beginning to experience an ever-present back and leg pain from both overworking herself and the dreadful infected snake bite she suffered awhile back. No doubt, it was not just the bite that caused this pain but meddling from that devilish child. How she longed to retire and finally shove that girl off to a mental ward! Still, this was not an option...idle hands were the devil's work, after all. 

She winced when a particularly rough knot at her back would not loosen even after her kneading palm rubbed it. 

"Ah. Are we off for our day, then?", a cheerful yet cold voice intoned and scared the living daylights out of the woman. 

A gasp sprung from her throat. Tightly, Alice clutched her chest, spinning around only to regard the intruder with a rather disgruntled scowl. That miserable- evil-devilish-little whelp!

"What's wrong? Why do you look so frigid? Did you run out of prunes?", her tone revealed nothing but cheery delight as Hadara flipped the pages of a book, smile peeking out from behind its spine. 

Alice, too, gave little away, but she wasn't a master at fooling people and Hadara could see the distemper, malcontented snarl, and the deep wrinkle that appeared on her liver-spotted forehead. Just a glance at that unattractive feature and Hadara decided that she'd rather not grow old if a similar appearance awaited her. 

She didn't voice these concerns but simply smiled charmingly at the woman, who recoiled as if something equally nasty and horrible gazed at her. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with me, girl. I only question why it is you're on this bus."

Hadara, too, reclined back in her seat with a smirk gracing her lips. "Oh. I'm just here to enjoy the trip. I'll be sure to take everything in- I wouldn't want to _leave anything behind_."

Alice spluttered at the implication, struggling to form a response only for the bus doors to be pushed open, the driver and a group of children boarding it. A loud, welcome distraction.

Margaret threw herself down in the seat next to her, moaning about something or another. Alice did not reply, thinking about the girl. She must've found out somehow then, most likely snooping around her office- she likely found the receipts for the bus rental and put the pieces together. It was her violin that she stole out of the post that paid for one of the bus rentals, after all. No doubt, more troubles would come now. 

Alice knew the action may have seemed cruel on her part, but it was for the girl's own good. Two days of quiet revision would have done her well. Plans of leaving her without food or beverage were also mentioned by others who disliked the girl.

Alice couldn't be bothered to disagree. She knew the girl ate little as it was, but, perhaps her hunger would serve as a reminder to improve her behavior. 

There may have been better ways to go about such a thing, but Alice did not feel that she deserved mercy or other options. The girl was not owed that level of kindness until she started to change her awful behavior, disrespectful attitude, and such.

My, she was a horrible person...smug, conniving. Perhaps she thought there was reason to be. Alice got letters and calls- attempts to celebrate her 'prodigious mind'. 

"Number one!", they'd yell. Whether in the school, world, Alice hung up before they could finish their proclamations. It gave her a sickly feeling- reminded her of her sister who was always treated better than her because of her achievements...achievements that never mattered when her drinking problems spiraled. It didn't matter how smart the girl was, she would always be her least favored...because she was just like her sister with her lack of morality. 

Whatever intellect they thought she had was nothing. The girl was simply a hooligan- a freak, likely a result of her parent's lifestyle, the circus working drug addicts. Alice would rather see the girl off to an institution for her crazed mind. A padded room and a straight jacket would do her well.

Many people strongly praised that girl, commenting on her manners, presence, talents, etc. She was deceitfully charming, that much Alice would agree. Before she really saw her for was she was and what she did, Hadara, too, charmed her.

As a child, she was indeed a pretty girl, her skin fair, eyes bright, and hair long and shiny black. She was intelligent, polite, quiet, and everything that was somewhat agreeable. As a baby, she was abnormally quiet, always drank her formula, and never fussed- unless she was being held or swaddled. 

But, as she grew to be a horrible little devil Alice could admit that her sister, her poor damned sister, was right about her. 

\-----------------------------------

London's smog and rows of buildings dissipated into forest and dirt roads before Hadara's eyes. Her window was grimy and sticky but the outside was tangible of she squinted slightly. Luckily, she managed to tune out the loud voices of the others and read her book, though she was practically a professional at this. It was a long ride- they'd stopped several times for the loo, gone back once when one of the workers forgot something at the orphanage, but they had made only a slight dent in the time they had left driving. 

Her rucksack had a dozen or so books in it, leaving her thankful for her tendency to bring so many with her, as it would keep her dutifully occupied. She made progress in her studies of Latin, furthered her understanding of calculus, and sketched a bit of forestry and woodland animals and scenery. It wasn't long before the sky began to darken, and the sketchy grizzled-looking driver they hired began to falter in his shoddy steering.

Realistically, the drive wasn't even that long but the frequent stops for the loo and such lengthened the time significantly. 

Alice, jolting after her head smacked hilariously into the side of her window, anxiously decided that a break would suffice. So, the man pulled to the side of the road, the other driver being signaled to do the same and 15 minutes were given.

Hadara thought that if she saw two giant school buses parked on the side of the road in the middle of what looked like nowhere with a bunch of children in it, she'd suspect foul intentions. But, they were more than a bit slow-witted so she wasn't surprised that they found nothing wrong with it. 

Carefully, she slid out of her seat and sighed in relief as her long limbs were no longer entangled in the tiny space of the seat. Suni hissed her complaints of being cramped between Hadara's sleeve and arm, so a walk was mutually needed. Feet stuck out to trip her on her exit but she dodged them, sneering at the two teenagers that thought to belittle a child made them special or something. 

The smell of pine that blew past in October breeze met Hadara's nose, which wrinkled in response to the overpowering scent. She wasn't fond of the idea of trekking through the wilderness, where spiders and rabid animals could appear at any moment. Anything that so much as grazed her food would be burned to a crisp, regardless of what it was. 

Once certain that she was cocooned by forestry and Suni wouldn't be seen, she lifted her arm and allowed her to escape the confines that were a prison of black-green fabric. Though the sky was darkening, Suni's vibrant scales easily stood out against the grass. She hissed a plethora of obscenities and complaints as if she hadn't insisted on going with her in the first place. 

Hadara watched her 'hissy' fit while snickering, leaning up against a rather suspiciously bent tree while Suni reigned over the grass, her tongue flickering out all over the place. It wasn't until the shudder of an engine and the quieted creaking of a bus in the distance was heard that her laughing, smiling features morphed into an expression that was reminiscent of a snake baring its fangs.  

She laughed again, the sound was significantly less light-hearted than before. Suni hissed threateningly but allowed the girl to shove her down her arm sleeve and secure her arms around her form before she disappeared in a dizzying swirl of black smoke-like matter.  

In the crowded bus full of children that failed to notice Hadara's sudden reappearance, they joked and giggled. Clearly, her supposed abandonment was the hilarious new focus of their amusement. 

The sunny mood ceased when Hadara slammed her belongings onto her seat, startling those in earshot while the others kept laughing in oblivious humor. The boy that took her seat in her absence looked up at her in fear before scurrying around her and over to his shared seat with two others, practically shaking and stumbling all the while. 

Immediately their faces fell, laughter ceasing. She smirked, noticing Alice's bewildered glare burning holes into the side of her skull before she turned towards her with the woman's favorite cheerful grin. 

"What is it? _Did_ you leave something behind, after all?" In response to her mocking question, the woman's lips sealed themselves shut tightly, like the uncertain jaws of a lion when so many hunters lay waiting. 

Not for the first time, she wondered how the woman could be so stupid. Obviously she wouldn't be lost to such a stupid tactic- if it could even be called that. If she hadn't been cast away yet, with all the various attempts she pulled, then why would it be any different now?

\---------------------------------------

Their seaside destination was finally met as the bus pulled into the rocky dirt lot. The vehicle creaked and shook as it finally came to a stop with the tires tracking through the sandy dirt. The jolting motion woke Hadara from her brief nap. 

Blinking the crust and bleariness from her eyes, she was further assaulted when shrill voices expressing excitement and awe made her ears ring. She watched as they crowded around the windows, pushing their greasy faces against the equally greasy glass in hopes of getting a view. 

Curiosity got the best of her and since her own window outlooked the dirt and sand that they'd parked in, she unfurled herself from the uncomfortable, suspiciously stained seat and ignored the creaking in her bones from the movement. She clambered over to the larger front of the bus windows to see the area, ignoring the boys and girls as they moved out of the way with looks of varying negative emotions.  

Shock wasn't an emotion she experienced frequently, and even when it was she masked it with disinterest. However, at the sight of the scenery that awaited her, a wideness took over her eyes and it wasn't something she could quite hide. 

Even though the grimy window and the cloak of night, velvet black waves could be seen rhythmically crashing against the jagged rocky cliffs and the sand beneath, creating peaceful relaxing sounds in the motions. The moon, full and swollen with luminosity, reflected itself on the troubled waters. There were few trees, as the vast lake was open to the sky, the rocks, and the sand and to her eye, as she drank it in greedily. 

In the immeasurably great distance, there erupted from the water a harsh piercing rock that must be home to a large cave, given the desolate piece of land that surrounded it and its sheer size. 

A soft sigh of satisfaction left her lips with the realization that there was finally something to see- to experience. She longed for adventure- not careless, or harsh adventure, but something different. Something beautiful. 

A croaking voice interrupted her tranquility right as a snarl made itself present in its absence. 

"Unfortunately, with the wind chill and low temperatures, we must spend that night on the bus. It is too cold- and too late, not to mention- to set up the tents. We will proceed with that lot in the morning, as our kind driver....", Margaret gestured kindly to the creepy man upon her sudden reentrance from checking outside, "has agreed to keep the bus parked here and will stay for the night." 

'Right, because leaving a whole bus full of children with some stranger while she's snoozing away was such a bright decision', Hadara rolled her eyes before throwing herself back in her seat dramatically. It obviously wasn't the weather that was to blame but rather that they were just too lazy to set up the tents. They had several battery-powered heaters packed underneath the bus anyhow. 

Her seat was uncomfortable, but she would need sleep to deal with being in close proximity to all of the pests she could usually avoid. 

The girl drew her legs up against her body for warmth and pulled a very large blanket out from her impossibly small rucksack. The others filled the floor with ragged blankets and pillows, sleeping in far too close quarters within one another while being overall tiresome with their constant chatter until hushed by Alice herself. There was still the occasional murmur or comment of dislike aimed toward her, but she gave them a rather nasty gesture and it was soon quiet. 

Suni curled up against Hadara's neck for warmth and Hadara soon fell asleep with the sound of waves smacking against a rock nearby and gusts of wind that flung against the windows of the bus. 

\---------------------------------------

_**October 17th, 1987** _

The sensation of being stared at was something that the human body could sense, even when deep in slumber. It was an unsettling feeling, one that stole the warmth from your body and left you horrified- almost sick depending on who it was that was staring...or _what_ it was when you woke up to find yourself alone, the shadows in your room heavy and looming. 

That was why when Hadara awoke to find not the sunlight assaulting her bare face, but the tall, cold shadow of a person standing in its place, she promptly jolted out of the sleep that she succumbed to and drew in all of her power with the intention of setting them ablaze or freezing their limbs...whatever mood she was in. But, as soon as it came, the shadow dissipated into a blur before her eyes before she could even comprehend it. 

She blinked slowly, so as to confirm that the sun filtering in through the windows of the empty bus was not blocked by something inhuman and that all of her surroundings were as they should be.

"Strange...I was sure I'd seen something", she mumbled. They must've chosen a haunted lake, or she was just out of sorts from sleeping on a bus seat. Either way, she was content to chuckle at Suni's curses at her for flinging her away when she first woke up. 

Hadara was one of the few that remained on the bus, a fact she noted when she saw that the pillows and blankets were mostly gone from the floor. A few kids older than her were snoring away in their places, but she carefully hid Suni away just in case. The bus driver snored obnoxiously loud from his reclined seat, and she remembered how much of a shame it was that she hadn't gotten what she'd dreamt about; them all being torn apart by wild animals during the night. 

A chortle reached her ears and she cursed her bad luck again when she was reminded that they were not dead, but gathered around the lakefront, setting up several worn tents a fair distance from the waves that assaulted the cliff rocks and the shore. 

In the light of day, Hadara found the lake significantly less pleasing to the eye. The rocks that she mistook for tall, arching cliff-sides were simply formations of rocks that had fallen from the cliff-sides and were still large, but nowhere near as vast or as pretty as she'd thought. 

The ocean now was not as dark or velvety but was a light grey-blue that reflected the sky and litter clung to the edges of the shore-various wrappers and bottles. However, the cave long in the distance still maintained its beauty and aura of eerie mystery that excited her.

Usually, the only mystery in her life that wasn't caused by her own disruptions of the natural order was the questions of what meat she could smell from the school cafeteria (if that was even meat, or exactly how many whiskers Alice was collecting on those wrinkled cheeks of hers. 

She was going to get to that cave, using whatever she could. The only question was when. For now, Hadara leaped up from her seat and cleaned herself up, though there was not much she could do without water or privacy. Hypothetically, she could have found a desolate area and used her water affinities to hose herself down...putting it crudely. But, she was more worried about getting to pick a tent. 

Knowing the workers, they'd probably leave her tent equipment to sink to the bottom of the lake or throw her portions of food to the next hungry kid. And Alice conveniently forgot to assign her to the group of five that she was so adamant about, so, she was on her own...which suited her well enough. 

Quickly, she brushed her long strands of hair and allowed it to fall in tumbling waves with a simple twisted crown of braided hair at the back of her head, leaving only her bangs to frame her face prettily. It was difficult learning how to do her own hair without the help from a mother, or an aunt, or a sister...but she had none of those, so she managed on her own. 

She left the bus after calming her angry snake down and got ready in a nearby outhouse just off of the bus parking spot that had a door that was nearly falling off of its hinges and overall had seen better days. She fixed it with a simple offhand thought and brushed her teeth and rinsed her face with the help of her ability to manipulate and make water appear, figuring that she'd probably be able to shower doing the same thing.

Suni's comments on the state of the place kept her entertained until she was to be tucked under her hood with her tail wrapped around the back of her neck while the girl took a descent down to the camping area. The dirt lot where the bus was parked sat at a higher point than the lakefront, a steep walk down the cliff-side path stealing her breath despite how short it took. 

When she reached the sand, her boots were already completely covered in it, but she beamed nonetheless. The cold breeze and spray of water against her skin kept her cool and with the view of the waves splashing against the rocks and the sand, a neverending battle between them...well, she couldn't be upset. 

A good majority of the tents were already pitched, set far from the jagged rocks or the waves. This took up most of the available space, leaving her with a spot either too far away from the bonfire that crackled nearby, too close to get washed away by the hostile water, or too close to the equally hostile old hag. 

Of those equally bad options, she decided that she was just going to set it near the hags. Because what was she really going to do? If she left to explore that cave, she'd welcome the opportunity of her possibly drowning with open arms. 

The pile of tent set-up bags was low and with few options that didn't have more holes than a slice of swiss cheese, but she found a somewhat decent one and dragged it to her chosen spot, and when noting that everyone was either setting their belongings away in their tents or were off paying her no mind, she told the tent to mend its holes and set itself up and it did, of course. 

With her new shelter from any possible rainstorms- or shadows for that matter, she decided that it would be best to set the area up for the next two days so she wasted no more time on menial tasks such as that. It was lucky that she didn't have to share the tent with a group of five, as Alice thankfully thought that her tactics would work and Hadara wouldn't have been present on the trip. Now, because of her stupidity, she was basically free to have the whole tent to herself. 

And it was a fairly large tent. with enough space for several blankets and pillows, a few lanterns beside her bed, a spot for Suni's open-top cage and a space for her clothes. A bit much for only two more days, but with the time that had already been taken from her with the stupid delays, she thought it was nice to be able to have something of her own. 

Likely, the popular opinion among the other orphans was that the purpose of the trip was relaxation and a brief rewarding experience, but it was freezing and they couldn't swim so overall the whole thing was redundant. That, however, didn't stop anyone from playing tag or tossing pieces of trash at each other and being overall annoying. These were things that they could easily do at Wool's. 

There were a few activities that were new, she noticed after walking down the lakefront. There was the roasting of cheap sausages over the fire, rock hunting, and 'wild-life observations'. Hadara thought that should they wish to find a wild animal so bad, they need only look in Alice's tent. 

How brainless they were! Hiding around in bushes, crawling on the ground to see any sort of animal possible. She, well, she felt much more entertained reading her books at the edge of a smaller cliff, enjoying the always present warmth of her blanket.  

To her embarassment...the rock hunting bit sounded fun, and so she went looking along the left shoreline. She found several, blowing the sand off of them and storing them away. Honestly, it was hard not to take them all, but she settled on a few special ones. She mostly chose shiny jagged ones or smooth reddish ones. They were better than the rocks she kept lined at her window sill (most of them were old and dusty, having been there before the room was hers). 

When she was satisfied with her own new collection, she allowed Suni to go and rest in her tent after a long day of bickering with her. For a snake, she really didn't appreciate the outdoors...at least the water and the cold. 

It then started to get darker and she returned to the edge of her cliff using the same method she used when nearly abandoned by the bus. She first thought of the place- of being there and exactly where it was while imagining it vividly, and she was there a moment later. Hadara was sat upon the edge, outlooking the lake as it began to dim with black rippled depths and a white shining moon.

At such a high point, she could feel the harsh winds that hit her with chilling air. And yet, she reveled in it, sitting there for hours gazing outward until her fingers were frozen and her nose was wet. It was then time to return, to make sure Suni was okay. 

She spent that night buried in a pile of blankets with Suni by her side, but despite the peaceful, calm atmosphere, her dreams were filled with turmoil. She dreamt of the lake, pale rotting bodies struggling, gasping for life in its depths, fighting against a stream of fire that chased toward them. A boy and a girl were there too, their skeletons lost to the inky blackness that surrounded them. 

_Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop, the wind sang. It was a haunting tune, one of vengefulness and hatred._

She did not remember the names when she woke or the death that lay in the lake's depths...she only woke and made a decision that she would have to see the cave for herself, be it childish curiosity or the call of something beyond that. She just had to see it for herself. 


	8. Of Rot and Shadowed Pasts

**_ October 18th, 1987     _ **

Rain trickled down in gentle drops before, in all-natural fury, it left the sky so quickly and smashed down below that it bounced upwards from the concrete.

However, Hadara remained dry and untouched through her trek down the misty lakeside. She moved closer to the cave-like structure in calculatedly quick movements, dipping in and out of the treeline and avoiding being seen by anyone who might have been glancing in her general direction, though she doubted they would be able to see through the fog and mist that clung to the grey sky. 

Though her whispered command kept even a single raindrop from touching her, she knew it was cold, icy rainwater that'd easily chill her to the bone. This observation was surmised from the chilly air that grazed her cheeks and froze her lips. 

If it were just a little colder, she'd be able to walk across the then frozen lake's surface and to her destination. But she made no move to freeze it as it would require her to be out in the open and, subsequently spotted by the others. If she were to walk across water, it just may cause pandemonium among the devout Catholics right across the shore. 

Suni was begrudgingly wrapped around her neck, dramatically bemoaning the cold despite the ever-present warmth gifted to Hadara's clothing. She could be a right drama queen at times, but that was her charm. 

Hadara herself preferred the cold, crisp Octobers to the scorching heat of summer, though winter was too cold at times. This was amusing though, given her proclivity for setting things aflame following emotional outbursts. Any other one of her...gifts required focus and demand- energy or at the very least a desire needed to be put into her thoughts before they physically manifested. The fire was not entirely like that- it was different, a more powerful gift than the others. 

Suni hissed in annoyance, once again complaining that she was not yet somewhere dry or entirely warm. Hadara kindly rolled her eyes at the reptile, not upset given that her name was Suni, which meant that if she did like the cold, it'd be ironic. 

The girl knew that her treasured friend was uncomfortable, but she was far better off with Hadara than being left with the others...Never would she leave her alone out in the open with those nasty people about, not when she didn't have a clear view in case someone found Suni and harmed her. She wasn't dim-witted. They'd sooner kill Suni than leave her to her own devices. 

The mere thought caused her eyes to glaze over in a frosty, reddened gaze before she continued through the harsh maze of fallen tree branches and shrubbery.  

Perhaps, in theory, it would've been inarguably easier to envision herself at the mouth of the cave and wait until that was the undeniable truth, however, that in itself would be a difficult feat since she found it extremely taxing to do so from long distances. Though that didn't stop her from wanting to do so...what with the prospect of spiders or whatever else may be within the forestry. She shivered at the thought, ready to maim anything at any given notice. 

...On the subject of her powers, this strange ability to essentially 'blink' herself across space and into the desired location did not come without its costs...particularly the horrible headaches and twisting in her limbs that it granted her hours after the fact...and the obvious fatigue. But, when she did indulge in it, it was incredibly satisfying to witness Alice's horrified shock. 

An unintentional scowl marred her doll-like features at the thought of the woman, bringing back the feared notion of her finding out about Suni's existence. She was such a horrible woman, Hadara had no doubts that she'd likely kill her companion and claim it was because snakes were associated with the unholy, even though Suni was not at all a danger.  

Why were people valued more highly than animals? She couldn't understand it. She hated people. At least the ones she was unlucky enough to be surrounded by; they were foul and weak but thought themselves highly even though they couldn't do much of anything significant. 

She was different. She could- if she so wished, envision the cold waves crashing against their tents and swallowing them whole in the night. She could, with great focus, push a boulder off the face of the cliffside and crush their bodies below in a fatal accident and flee somewhere, without being known as the freakish orphan girl again.

_'Perhaps, then, when everyone who knows me is gone, I can find family...try again but never show my abilities, never use them again, never have to hurt anyone in my defense again...'_

Ruthlessly, she shoved those stupid thoughts, the _weak_ feelings away. Meaningless, and unhelpful they were. She was an orphan. Her family was gone or simply didn't care for her. Only Suni was left now. And her abilities...they didn't betray her, so she could not betray them. They were the reason that she was alive. 

 _{Something smells of rot...}_ , Suni's hushed whisper ripped Hadara from her thoughts as the girl noted that they were finally close enough to 'blink' across the water and onto the small stretch of land placed before the mouth of the cave. 

She grinned, holding Suni close to her as she disappeared in a dizzying blur of smoky matter. 

It was mere seconds before she found herself at the mouth of the cave, which in such closeness stood taller than even her window at the top of the orphanage. The cave was a gleaming, almost crystalline rocky surface that formed the structure beneath the sun's glow. It was truly a remarkable sight, but its beauty was diminished by the strange opening it gave way to. 

Beyond the jagged gap that she would have to move through was inky blackness, so thick and dark that she was forced to engulf her palm in the fire to discern her surroundings, once she crossed the entrance to the structure. 

The most bizarre feeling passed along her body as she stepped into the structure...It was almost as if she was being scanned by something invisible and suddenly given entry as a cold draft blew across her face, though nothing should have brought that thought to mind other than the strange warmth that receded from her following the feeling of an invisible force being lifted from the mouth of the cave. 

As soon as it came, the intrusive thought was forgotten in favor of awe as she saw the sheer height and size of the cave's interior, which was spacious with a vast natural pool of water, the size of a football field and likely deep. 

The only source of light being her fire, deciphering her surroundings wasn't the easiest so she switched tactics and instead summoned several of the golden balls of flame to hover behind her as a greater light source.  

With the cloak of shadow lifted, she gazed across the wide expanse of black water and quirked a brow. The cave was interesting with the strange, dark atmosphere it held, but it looked to be mostly empty...thankfully. She wasn't sure what she'd be expecting, truthfully, but for some reason, she thought it'd be something more than what it was. 

 _{I still smell the rot and darkness...across the water is something dark and potent...but don't swim across the waters},_ Suni offered, not entirely helpful. 

Hadara quirked a bemused brow, _{Well...do you smell rot or darkness...what does darkness smell of anyhow?},_ though she started off meaning to be playful, she ended in questioning curiosity, however, when she noted the rigid stiffness in her stance- the clear fear it showed, she was hushed quickly. 

While they were sly, tricky, cunning creatures, a snake did not fear- it conquered and killed or died trying. Her hesitation and fear showed two things:

1\. There was something malicious lurking within the cave, but there was also reason to continue forward, though neither knew what exactly it was it must be of enough significance to bother doing so.

2\. Suni showed fear and hesitation because she did not think Hadara could protect her. Her greatest friend didn't believe in her abilities. 

 _{Wait outside the cave, then}_ , Hadara hissed. It was a cold, detached sound, but Suni did not react to it and gladly slithered onto the ground while Hadara continued forward. Self-preservation was one thing, but Hadara thought she'd more than proven that was capable of taking care of them. 

Shivering, the girl gazed down at the seam of the water, its depths endless and black. She did not hesitate, however, to place her foot above its surface and watch it freeze into a thick sheet of ice more than capable of holding her weight. With each careful step forward, the water froze over more. Still, the black waters clear to see beneath the ice instilled a sense of hurriedness in her to simply get to the other piece of land on the other side and to see the fruit of her efforts. Whatever it might be. 

As she neared the other side, she found herself stunned to see a crystallized platform that looked like carved blocks of ice stacked to form the impressive raised piece of land that she couldn't see fully from afar but must have been incredibly tall. What exactly was this place? The structure was intimidating, but there was no way it had formed naturally. 

Curiously, she examed what looked to be the edge of a small boat, upturned and pointing out of the ice she formed, likely stirred by the creation of the icy sheet and pushed upwards by the force of her ability. What was the purpose of a boat being in such a remote area if not to provide transport to the structure in the distance?

It was in her dazed confusion that a sudden horrible screeching pierced her ears and vibrated the inside of her skull followed by the shattering of the ice that she stood upon. With wide, fearful eyes, she dared to glance at the source of the noise and was met with a horrifying scene. 

Beneath the ice plunged upwards a hand, pale and skeletal to the point of no longer being recognizable as human. Hadara sucked in a harsh breath as her heart stuttered with the action, before it began to pump quickly, beating faster and faster as she realized that was frozen in fear of the creature before her.

As if by some cruel chain reaction, dozens of the white, emaciated hands clawed their way through the ice, grasping for her feet to yank her into its depths and to her death. 

Registering that this was a matter of life and death and that these were not vagrants seeking shelter but zombie-like creatures that wanted to tear her apart, Hadara quickly snapped her gaping mouth closed and ran like hell across the remainder of the lake, narrowly avoiding the limbs that grasped for her while screaming bloody murder all the while. 

In hindsight, it may have been smarter to have run towards the exit, rather than towards whatever stupid motivation led her foolishly to this wretched place. But she could not change direction as hundreds of that ghastly creatures were breaking out of the prison of ice with screeches and moans of the dead. She had no time to so much as question the frightening, unexpected consequences of her curiosity, or to formulate a plan before she was forced to act. 

She reached the area just before the forming of the crystalline structure and faced the horde of vicious zombies, panting and in terror as she mustered the strength to call upon every drop of power that dwelled within, nearly retching in disgust at the sight of the abominable creatures. They were nearly upon her, towering over her with their matted hair and the thinnest of skins stretched cruelly over their tall, gruesome bodies. 

With quick, harsh labored breaths she drew from the gathered power, watching in concentrated morbid fascination as the bodies of those inches from her exploded when the combustion of her... _magic_ became too much for them, splattering her entire body with disgusting bits of blood and matter in a great, hot explosion of white, unlike anything she'd ever witnessed before. 

It was a silent explosion, a small mercy in comparison to the horrible things she'd just witnessed, but a mercy nonetheless. After all, it surely wouldn't be good if she was found surrounded by what looked to be the remains of dozens of the dead. 

Several minutes passed before she was able to muster the strength to sit back up from where the momentum had pushed her backward and her exhaustion kept her off her feet.

However, when she did, she noted with a decent level of deliriousness that the rest of the walking corpses had disintegrated into simple piles of smoking ash and bone. There was the exception of an odd few that were dead once more, but not entirely gone with remaining flesh stretched tightly over their skeletal bodies. At least she wasn't blinded by the white explosion of light, though she was incredibly dizzy. 

The sight of this rose bile in the back of Hadara's throat, but she swallowed it down and looked away. Instead, she focused on willing the smoke that rose and suffocated the air to dissipate out of fear for her already harsh breathing. She was exhausted, confused, and covered head to toe in greyish bloody muck and matter that clung to her clothing and smelled of the rot Suni went on about...but that would have to wait. 

She was thankful in all her wicked luck that she had told Suni to wait outside, for she'd likely be just another pile of ash if Hadara hadn't. In a way, Hadara was grateful that Suni doubted her and that she told her to wait outside, as that was what kept her safe. 

When she was sure that there was no longer any force that could harm her, she allowed herself another long, winded moment of rest, as was needed when she used so much power- so much to warranty an explosion like that. Somehow she knew subconsciously that her fire wouldn't have been enough to stop them. 

It likely didn't help much that it had been a while since she'd last eaten, or gotten a full eight hours of rest. She knew now that she should've been more careful before going on an excursion to a cave- a dangerous, foolish enough feat without the threat of living dead. 

Pushing away her musings and reigning in the emotions that she allowed running wild in the face of danger, she put on her mask of cold indifference despite there being no one to see it. It was a mask she wore always in an effort to become it, only allowing it to shift to fit what she needed to portray or for others to discern if need be. Never would she take that mask off and allow herself to be hurt again. 

Haphazardly after regaining a fraction of her strength, she made her way up to the crest of the platform by climbing the smooth crystal-like stones that jutted outward to form makeshift steps. What had she bothered with this cave for? She didn't exactly know if there was even a purpose beyond her simple whims. 

As she, at last, neared the crest of the platform, she breathed out a sigh of relief, her small legs having borne her weight long enough without an accident to carry her to the top, a flat surface with none of the wretched creatures waiting to tear her apart.

With vivid uncertainty, Hadara gazed upon a pedestal-like object formed by the crystal blocking, jagged pieces of the material pointing upwards threateningly. Slowly, she moved close to the formation, peering down with caution to notice that the pedestal had an indented center that held a silvery liquid, glittering unnaturally under the fire. 

The whole scenario was strange, uncomprehensible with those reanimated corpses trying to tear her limbs off her body. If she hadn't already been exposed to events unheard of or the things she could do with her magic, she likely would have had a heart attack or nervous break down just then. 

 _Magic._..that had to be what allowed her to experience her treasured gifts, the powers that she thought no one else had. Now, she finally knew for certain that Jormungard told the truth, that she did have magic, that she was a witch, and that, somewhere out in the world there were likely other people like that. 

How else could those dead bodies move and function again, if not for magic...? It was magic that she didn't create or utilize, which meant that someone else had.

Why though? Why on earth this ordinary cave in Britain, a place that orphans visited and other people probably ignored? What were they guarding? Who was responsible?

The answer to her third question undoubtedly was with the pedestal, as nothing else was in the cave of significance (except the rotting dead bodies she'd obliterated). As for the others...she would have to find out from Alice either directly or through listening in on her conversations to find out about the history of this place. 

She could try to command the woman to tell her- whisper in her head until she complied, but she still found that trying to influence someone's conscience or thoughts was incredibly difficult and likely wouldn't yield results on her with it being harder to perform on adults, who had a stronger will than her own due to age and experience. 

Intentionally, she could usually only do so on those closest to her in age, and only with significant focus or intent. Meaning, in short, she had no chance. Luckily, Alice's tendency to chatter on about a plethora of subjects to her workers instead of tending to her so-called 'duties' meant that she probably wouldn't need to do so anyway. It was just a matter of timing.  

The shimmering liquid caught Hadara's eye and she berated herself for mindless dawdling when her snake was waiting for her and danger could occur at any given moment. 

Standing before the pedestal, she examined it more closely and saw the glinting of something beneath the liquid, encapsulated within it. Jewelry of some sort, from what she could see. Why had this been so important? To warranty such a fixed interest from her and for Suni to have mentioned it...

She knew Suni was not a fool- she wasn't a special exotic breed of snake, and was often used as an introductory pet to children with interests in reptiles...but she was a snake nonetheless, bound by the ability to speak parseltongue that they shared. So what had been of significant importance to her?

With those walking corpses that erupted from the water only after she crossed it...It confirmed that this person in question was like her except they commanded the dead, to attack anyone who crossed the invisible boundary to retrieve something belonging to them. This person was more powerful than her. 

But that brought back the question of why this cave...the orphanage had long since designated this as one of their few travel spots, a long time ago though she didn't know why or exactly when. All she knew was based on the bit of information she heard from the workers on the drive to this destination. When they returned to London the following day, she would have to search for the information behind the tradition. 

Even without it, she could gather that the reason the person chose this cave was that they were familiar with it- a desolate cave difficult to reach by swimming because of the distance from land and the sheer size of the waves, difficult or even impossible to reach by boat due to the challenge it would be because the cave was at such an elevation that it would, once again, be impossible to swim to once arriving by boat if once could even be brought to from the steep hills and cliffsides surrounding the area. 

The only way to reach the cave she could imagine was by abnormal means that would not be logical for anyone to bother with unless they weren't already familiar with, or on a visit to the place. Why would anyone unfamiliar with the place even bother with it? They wouldn't. 

So, it stood to reason that this person was- or more likely _had been_ an orphan of Wools. The workers were either feeble old women or widows that had become nuns (or at least pretended to be) or average teens looking for volunteer hours. Regardless, admittance was strictly limited to those of serious Catholic faith or those aptly skilled at posing to be so.

A devout catholic or even a poser wouldn't be caught dead breathing life into mindless corpses to guard a piece of jewelry and wouldn't have had those capabilities or would've been suspected and fired for even thinking of doing so. Jormungard told her that there were many people like her, and she had no doubts about it now. There were witches and whatever the male equivalent was (wizard, perhaps?)...and one of them had been an orphan at Wools...a talented one, no doubt. 

Where had they gone and what had they done? Why had she never heard of someone like that? 

There were many things she disliked, but not knowing- being ignorant about something important as this, it inspired a feeling of intense hatred. She would find the answers to her questions and wouldn't settle for less. 

Next to the liquid-filled pedestal was a shell, placed inconspicuously yet drawing in her attention with its shimmery surface, reflecting rainbow colors like a puddle of oil and water in the light. Its placement led Hadara to the conclusion that it was set there to scoop out the liquid to reach the shining piece of jewelry, for whatever reason it was deemed necessary. 

At first, she hadn't read much into the reasoning but rather simply dropped the liquid onto the crystalline floor after using the shell, however, the missing liquid returned and filled the pedestal back to the brim, leaving her bewildered. 

It was after a moment's pause that she berated her dimwittedness, coming to the obvious realization that the liquid must be consumed or it would return to the pedestal- another unprecedented work of magic...one she had no idea how to perform.  

So, what to do?

A valuable piece of jewelry was still not enough to make her drink something she didn't know the properties or ingredients of. It could very well be poison, after all. Carefully, with fear of passing out from exhaustion, or being stuck inside the dreadful cave, she instead levitated one of the corpses toward her- one of the few that still had a head intact... or at the very least some of a head. 

Ignoring the dull ache of fatigue that protested another use of her abilities, she lifted the shell to the creature's charred lipless mouth and eased the liquid down its throat in a smooth descent of glittering droplets and pale fingers forcing the esophagus muscles to go through the motion of swallowing. All the while, she was carefully watching for even the slightest twitch that would send her into the action of maiming the creature once and for all. 

Fascination decorated her innocent, doll-like features, at last taking the brief moment of calm to appreciate the power it must have taken to make these corpses move and breathe and follow orders beyond what was supposed to be the finality of death. She wondered if she would ever be able to do something like that- to command death as it was, like a god almost, or a grim reaper. 

Though fear and confusion remained, the dangerous beginnings of admiration and wonder and _envy for that power_ made themselves home in the dark, immature tangle of her thoughts. 

The forced descent of liquid down the corpses' throat continued for far too long and was an utterly nauseating task, but it allowed Hadara time to rest and think upon what her next course of action was...finding out exactly who it was that had the same abilities as her- the one who brought those beings back to life. 

When the basin was emptied and the object revealed itself, she nicked it from the cocoon of jagged blades of crystal and carefully examined it. 

An amulet of some sort...an expensive one probably, with considerable weight to it.

The amulet was silver, _real silver_ on a chain far too long for Hadara to wear practically (what with her only being a little taller than the average 7-year-old). The design of the amulet caught her verdant eyes with interest as it was a strange hexagonal shaped box of amber-stained glass encapsulating an 'S' made of hundreds of intricately placed emeralds that glimmered under the light of the fire orbs hovering behind her. 

On the outer edge of the 'S' were unfamiliar markings and symbols that were so entwined they were a pain to stare at. They danced, wriggling and changing under her glare. Hadara blinked, focusing her vision the best she could given the dim lighting, when, shockingly, those symbols and markings unfurled and morphed into elegantly written English. 

With widened eyes, she read the script carefully, reverently in light of the clear influence of magic on the object. 

_"Salazar Slytherin, Greatest of Hogwarts Four...May my heir command and lead with ambition and power for the greatness and purity of our bloodline", it claimed._

For the umpteenth time since she blindly- foolishly went on her little excursion, she was filled with questions, no answer in sight. It was incredibly frustrating; not knowing all the answers, the _knowledge_ needed to piece together the bizarre circumstances of what she'd found and surmised.

Though it went against her natural response she forced herself to retain even the slightest bit of patience. If only on the reasoning that the answers to her questions would be found soon enough. Though she was still unsure she would ever understand the name Salazar Slytherin...it sounded like something out of a Star Wars movie. She shivered at the thought of being named something like that, but with that shiver came a vague recognition. 

Had she heard that name before? No...she was probably mistaken. 

Heaving a sigh of exhaustion, slowly the girl climbed and trudged her way out of the cave, deciding that it would be best to conserve her energy and wait until she was outside to attempt to 'blink' herself out of the vicinity and back onto familiar land. The amulet remained fastened around her neck, with the chain knotted carefully to keep it from reaching her stomach with its length. 

Luckily it appeared that the neck wasn't embedded with a command to turn its wearer into a toad or something of the like, a possibility she thought of after she'd already put it on...a dumb choice, but to be expected with the stress she'd dealt with. Hadara couldn't say that she knew any other kids her age that had to face reanimated dead bodies on what was supposed to be a fun lakeside trip.  

The sunlight that peeked from the cracks of great sweeping grey clouds assaulted her eyes upon her reemergence from the cave, before the black water of the lake appeared in turmoil with enormous waves crashing against the back of the structure and spraying her with freezing water. But she paid no heed, smirking at her minute success and the nasty grey entrails of the beings washed away from her person with the splash.

An invisible, quiet caress of dark magic brushed lovingly against her cheek, waiting patiently for an opportunity...its source was the very treasure she unknowingly sought in the bowels of that cave. 

With her petulant snake in hand dramatically bemoaning how long she took and how awful she smelled, Hadara disappeared momentarily and emerged along the treeline, returning to the camping orphans along the shore with a now scowl plastered on her lips. 

\----------------------------------------

 ** _October 19th, 1987 _ ** __

The sky was bright, piercing to the eye in the intensity that was the sun rising across the wide expanse of sky, unobscured by the cloud or fog from the previous day. It was humid for October but still with a chill in the wind that scattered the leaves falling from the trees and grazed across the cheeks of those seated by an open window breathing in the fresh air. 

Hadara, in stark contrast of that bright sunshine, glared sullenly, her eyes spewing acid into the side of Alice's skull. She knew that today was the day they were scheduled to head back to the dump of an orphanage, but she hadn't expected to be woken up at the crack of dawn by said woman's shouts and orders to pack up immediately without lingering around. 

This was a mistake on her part given the woman's overall unpleasant, grouchy, revolting personality. Still, she'd been less than pleased to have to quickly pack up her things and board the bus without as much as a last glance at the place, or her spot at the top of the cliff that she came to like staring out at the water from.

Hadara hadn't even been able to re-investigate the cave after learning some rather interesting facts that might've helped with the new developments and her ideas about the necklace. 

And, what interesting things she'd learned last night while listening in on one of Alice's usual droning conversations that quickly turned interesting! She thought back on the event, millions of thoughts sweeping across her mind as she once again contemplated what she'd overheard. 

\--------------------------------------

 ** _October 18th, 1987  (_** ** _Flashback) _ ** __

It was several maddening hours after quietly watching Alice ramble on about whatever came to her mind that she finally, finally learned something of use. It'd been slowly getting dark, heavy shadows cast against Alice's tent, providing solace in the shadow for Hadara to carefully disappear into, waiting for any mention of the answers she sought out that just may explain the bizarre events of that earlier afternoon.  

And it came, with Linda Walsh, one of the pig-like crones that followed Alice around and often engaged in gossip with the others- one of the women Hadara slammed a table against in her anger after learning about being left out of Alice's plans for the trip. 

She was a newer worker hired by Alice but was still good enough at cozying up to the woman that she was allowed to visit with Alice and jabber on about meaningless things as they did best. The topics varied little and only depended on what it was the woman got her nose into this time around. However, it was Hadara's fantastic streak of luck that changed the course of their talk and gave her some of the answers she craved. 

Hadara couldn't say she knew much about Sister Linda', although the woman had an idea about her as shown by the protruding sneer that took over her face whenever Hadara was near. In addition, she'd made her dislike known in other ways...namely how she on several occasions denied Hadara access to the library for no logical reason or the ban she placed on her to keep her out of most of the play areas for the good of the other kid's 'mindsets' or how she encouraged the other children to mess with her for rewards like sweets or toys. 

Of course, Alice didn't know anything about this, but Hadara was sure the woman would join in her spiteful bullying if given the chance. 

Still, there was little she could say she knew about the fat woman, though she learned to be cautious of her squeaky, high-pitched voice and the potential harm it may cause to her hearing long-term. 

It was the pure childish determination that kept Hadara rooted in her hiding spot amongst the shadows despite the enormous risk to her ears. Thankfully, she had enough foresight to command her clothing to be filled with warmth beforehand, with the howling wind that was even more bone-chilling at night and was all the more chilling while being surrounded by shadow.

Their conversation about whatever gossip Linda had gotten her ear full of was quickly hushed when they realized after several obvious hours that the tent was not thick enough to block out their voices from anyone possibly listening. Still, she could hear them by straining her ears and quieting her breathing as best as she could. 

"The children have behaved adequately considering their usual disturbed temperament...a few have earned reprimands from Margaret and I and will be present at mass following our return, but the behavior has been better than usual, no doubt because of your wonderful efforts, Sister Alice", Linda reported. She was clearly intending to suck up to the women with her compliments and good reports as it was clear she wasn't interested in her daily dose of gossip when a long time passed without any expressed enjoyment from Alice. 

The movement of her shadow through the material of the tent suggested that she was fiddling with the edge of her wimple, nervous at Alice's minute silence. She was groveling. 

"Yes. I've noticed that much myself and I am pleasantly surprised in the success of this trip...its been a tradition for well over 60 years after my great-grandfather, Wool Cole died and left the orphanage to my grandmother in 1915 when she was only 30." Alice's tone went from dull, droning on boringly to one that spoke of deep-seated respect. This was shocking to Hadara, who thought the woman didn't respect anyone but her 'lord'. 

"A couple of years later, she designated this lake as a field trip of sorts to pay tribute and celebration to her father's building of Wools Orphanage- an institution well-known for upbringing children finely under the catholic faith."

Linda fussed and cooned over her matron's beautiful tale, dropping herself comfortably in a seat nearby as Hadara could see from her large shadow that well outlined her plump figure. Though she couldn't see it, she was sure that the woman batted her eyelashes at Alice as she spoke and praised her, "If you would be so kind- and I know you have been already my sister- as to further enlighten me on the background of those who have served as heads of the orphanage before you, I would be most interested!"

Alice seemed more than delighted to retell the familial history of her 'respectable and completely noble' lineage if the speed and amount in which she rambled on and on were a clue. For once, Hadara would listen to the woman's winded speech- if only to provide any sort of information on the unknown person that led her to eavesdrop in on them in the first place.  

Clearing her throat noisily, Alice began recanting her family history, "My great-grandfather came from a well-off family but found himself wanting to use his wealth to make a contribution to the children of society and to bring more children up under the guidance of our lord. He bought the building in 1871...A very old hospital of sorts it was then, and he set the plans and work forward to create and repurpose it into the orphanage, finally completed in 1876."

She paused in her story to take a dramatic breath before continuing, "He married my great-grandmother in 1878, and my grandmother Irene Cole was born in 1885. Irene would go on to inherit the orphanage in 1915 as it was the only thing he had left when his entire life's savings went to the orphanage after my great-grandfather's death-"

Linda feigned a sympathetic coo for the woman, nodding her head in understanding as she offered a pat to her shoulder.

"-My grandmother Irene would be the one to end the tradition of visiting this lake that she started, however", Alice claimed, her tone dark and a scowl no doubt on her face.

Linda perked up at this, honing in on a possible source of gossip to pass around her coworkers the next morning. Hadara could see the clear change in her speech from respectful to reverent as she did her best to draw more information from the woman. 

Hadara grinned from her hiding spot, knowing that Alice's reluctancy to continue the disjointed rambling as she so loved to do meant that this would be important to hear. Perhaps she would even mention the person that brought those corpses back to life to guard the new amulet around Hadara's neck at the very moment. 

Slightly closer to Alice than before, Linda spoke carefully and soothingly to the matron in an attempt to persuade her to keep talking, "I know you have indulged my curiosity much this evening, sister, however, I must ask that you may explain why it was that your grandmother stopped the trips. Was there an issue with this area or something related?"

Alice's reply kept Hadara locked in place, watching with narrowed eyes as the woman shook her head, rejecting her idea. There was a long expanse of silence following this, but Alice eventually found her words with a harsh clearing of her throat and a sigh. There was likely an ugly, deep marred frown on her lips when she finally answered, "Why it was nothing trivial like that. I fear the reasoning was much more...severe."

Linda muttered something incoherent and confused, while Alice exhaled once more before continuing on, "I cannot say that I see the appeal in recanting such a terrible story, but you've been a great help to me as of late, so I'll tell you for that reason." Linda tittered, murmuring nonsense about Alice being "too kind" and all that, but Alice paid her little attention and continued forward with her story.

"I'm certain you must know of at least some of it, with your keen ability to know so much about everyone." This was a direct insult to her well-known habit of hosting whispering campaigns about the lives of her fellow 'sisters', but she made a noise of imminent protest at the comment. 

"W-why, I only know what the lord deems necessary for me to know." Her words were spoken defensively, yet smug all at once. 

Alice scoffed, "But you have heard the rumors haven't you?" Impatience, irritation, and fatigue colored Alice's words. 

Linda settled her weight back on the chair, which groaned and creaked underneath her weight, nodding solemnly in a swift movement of shadow, "Yes, sister, there was talk- of this trip being dangerous due to past events. I do not find hearsay very mindful in regards to the lord's will, however..." she paused, sipping from a thermos that was likely filled with sugary sweet coffee.

The liquid within sloshed as she set the thermos down on a nearby table, continuing forward, "There have been whispers...about a boy..."

Alice groaned in heavy annoyance at the matter, "I would have thought 50 odd years or so would've been long enough to bury that instance in the dirt and move on...but I suppose that is too optimistic of a mindset when considering exactly what occurred."

Hadara watched and listened in confusion, a chill seeping in her bones that couldn't be comforted by the warmth of her clothing. A boy? 50 years? What was the old crone on about now? The girl's thoughts moved slowly as she processed the information to the best of her ability before Linda sucked in a harsh breath and she instead turned back to the strange scene before her. 

"I-it's true then? Did he kill them? That orphan boy...?"

Alice nodded her head sadly before she folded her talon-like hands together and rested her chin upon them, "Heavens rest their souls. It was never proven as there had been no evidence linking the boy indefinitely but-to lessen the confusion I'll simply start from the beginning..."

"My grandmother was a harsh woman after the death of her father and rightfully so. She was left to head an orphanage when she knew little about childcare or owning a business of sorts especially as a woman in her time, her mother fell ill just shortly after and was unable to assist her, and she suffered from alcoholism most of her life...the same affliction my dear sister came to suffer- _god rest her soul_."

A rattling breath drew from Alice's lips as she spoke and Hadara felt just the slightest inkling of pity for the woman, though it was ruined by the other woman's fussing over Alice with sympathetic coos and condolences. 

"Enough of that", she growled uncaringly at the fat woman to quiet so that she may pursue the subject. 

"...As I was explaining, Irene Cole was a cold woman, unpleasant to be around and often delirious from the alcohol, but the horror in her tone when my mother told me the story...the story my grandmother would tell her when she grew up...I used to make excuses to dissuade myself from putting stock in something so ridiculous. However, I've come to realize that she was telling the truth. _I find myself thinking that perhaps she and Agatha were not so different, after all_."

Alice laughed, a grating, horrible sound to the ear. "I suppose I'm getting too far ahead of myself again...as I stated previously, My grandmother inherited the orphanage in 1915. She would serve as matron for over twenty years until it would be given to my mother- who inherited it in 1938 when she was only 18...after Irene began to suffer dementia and liver failure."

"...After that, my sister would be born in 1937 right around the one-year anniversary of marriage between my mother and father...Agatha would then inherit it in 1957 when my mother died of cancer, until my sister's death when it would pass onto me, born in 1940 and inherited it in 1985."

"What a noble lineage of childcare! The impact your family has had on so many children's lives. It is astounding...!", Linda Walsh gushed, grinning widely. Hadara meanwhile wondered why Alice felt the need to include so many dates in her dull familial history, but she figured it was probably just an old person thing. 

"Yes, but I fear that not all of the orphans may have been saved." Hadara just barely muffled the sarcastic laugh that tumbled out of her throat and into her sleeve at that statement.

Alice drew a heavy breath as if she were carrying a weight on her chest with its rise and fall. She sounded old and tired, but that was nothing new. "Irene recanted the story to my mother, about a boy that was born within the orphanage in December of 1926. His mother was a strange one, likely a drunk or such-died after giving birth thankfully. I can't quite remember the boy's name as its been so long now, but I still vividly remember the stories my mother told me."

It was so utterly silent that it seemed even the wind paused to give silence explicitly for her and her alone to break. 

"That boy was possessed by the devil himself, he was!" Alice shouted this, a distant but present fear that wobbled her voice and shook her limbs as she grasped the cross at her neck. In her hidden spot amongst the shadows, Hadara fingered the chain of her amulet, shocked at her sudden exclamation, so unlike her normally dull demeanor.  

 _"The devil?"_ , Linda made a rather piteous show of grasping at her chest and shaking like a leaf in the wind at Alice's admittance. 

The head matron's character was completely and utterly serious, gravely so. "Ay, the devil. He did things that scared her, a woman that owned an orphanage amidst the brink of World War 2, the Great Depression, and so many other grievances. He was a monster, that much was certain. He hung a boys rabbit from the rafters, pushed the children from the top of the stairwell, stole their belongings, - and so much more."

"That Potter girl is just like him, I bet", Linda piped up self-assuredly after another drawn-out sip of her drink. 

Hadara glared into the stark blackness of the night but remained quiet. Because she wasn't wrong. The boy, whoever he was- she had a distinct feeling that he was the one she was searching for. A lucky break, she thought, considering the horrible experience she dealt with in that cave taunting her in the distance of the lake.

Alice harumphed despite the clear disturbance in her thoughts, brought upon her from the mention of the boy. "I would have vehemently disagreed with you before that terrible day when my sister lost her life. After that, I've come to understand that the incident all those years ago with the boy and his two peers wasn't an accident at all, just as my mother and her mother agreed." 

"What happened, sister?", Linda asked once more. Alice's tendency to ramble on about insignificant things was once again rearing its ugly head as she'd yet to get to the point. 

"It was a former trip to this same lake that led to the disappearance and assumed death of two orphans; a boy, and a girl. The child had seen them last, been in a group with them when they were out exploring...it was several hours later that he showed up at camp claiming that the two had gone missing while out to explore the cave out in the ocean and he hadn't seen them since he declined to go."

Alice formed a thin mirthless smile at the reemergence of the traumatic experience, "At first, it'd been assumed that they were simply lost so the adults went looking for them but the searching went on for days with the help of the police and it was assumed that they either drowned in the lake or ran away into the city while everyone was preoccupied under the guise of them trying to see the cave."

Outraged, Linda exclaimed her frustration in a half shout, half-whisper, "They didn't even bother to check the city or question the boy?!"

"No. I can't say I know the full story as I wasn't even alive when this occurred, however, my grandmother let it be known to my mother that the boy was a very talented liar, indeed. He put up a confused, traumatized front and the police figured that he was nothing more than another victim. But she knew the truth about the boy- that he had abilities...abilities that could only be related to the devil."

Alice explained the incident well, but Hadara could only form more questions. Was this boy the same person that brought the figures back to life? Did the amulet truly belong to him at a time or was this simply coincidence? 

Sure, this unknown boy (or perhaps old man, now) fit the exact criteria that would have explained the events she endured-after all, he had been an orphan over half a century ago (meaning it provided more than enough time for him to be forgotten, explaining how Hadara never heard of someone like that), he was more than likely a witch (wizard?), and he possibly knew the cave well enough and may have even laid the first corpses in it before creating an entire army of undead (If that was even how the whole thing worked).

Still, she didn't know his name or anything else but what Alice claimed and Alice tended to exaggerate situations for sympathy or pity. Besides, this rose the question of how someone could get away with killing dozens and dozens of people. Surely Alice -or rather her grandmother or mother as the timeframe suggested- would know first thing if that boy had been found and imprisoned, but she knew nothing other than an old story that very well could be a lie. 

Alice finally spoke again after an exceedingly long period of silence. "That boy is likely dead by now or aged and on the verge...however, you mentioned Potter and I must admit that I, too, found myself noticing the similarities between her devilish behavior and the boys."

"Yes", Sister Linda nodded in extreme confidence, "I do think that she should be under close watch. I find her attitude completely disrespectful for someone so young. Not to mention her behavior has always struck me as freakish and unnatural. She would be better off in a mental institution than around the other children and influencing them if it weren't for the cost that would warranty."

Humming, Alice gave a smile of agreement, "That is something my sister and I were often at odds about, you see. Amusing it is that you should mention her in similarly to the boy. I believe my sister thought the same thing and she'd always had strong beliefs on the matter. You do not, however, need to fret about her being around the others, that is why she is isolated on the top floor...to prevent the children from being infected with the same mental ailments and demonic manifestations as her."

Hadara could feel her powers- her magic practically boiling beneath her skin at what they were saying about her. Yes, she was different, but she wasn't a demon. She was stronger, better, smarter and faster than the other kids and she was a little girl even if her prodigal mind made it seem like she was matured beyond her years she was still a child. And they were openly berating and insulting her. 

"Brilliant on your part, absolutely so. I shouldn't have doubted you, sister." If it was even possible, it seemed Linda's respect and reverence for Alice were strengthened. 

"I do try, if only for the well-being of the children", Alice careened, smiling into her cup as she took a long sip of liquid. That was a blatant lie if there ever was one. Alice didn't care about anyone but her own self-image. She would gladly starve them all and hand out breadcrumbs to look like the patron saint she thought she was. 

"Sister Linda, I have greatly appreciated your presence this evening and your mindful ear for listening to what I've had to say. I believe this conversation has brought us closer as friends and so I've decided I'll let you in on an amusing little secret that no one but my sister knew." Alice spoke conspiratory and hushed, but also delightedly with the outline of a wide gaping smile that Hadara could see from just a glance at her shadow. 

"Oh, I'd be more than happy to hear about anything on your mind at any time, sister. It's a treat to be in your respectable company." Sister Linda somehow managed to top herself once more with her groveling this time. 

Alice hummed in neither disagreement or agreement, "I do so appreciate your courtesy. As for the secret...the top floor room that the Potter girl resides in was once the same room that the devilish boy resided in- the one that caused the disappearance of his peers. All of his belongings remain there to this day, I'm reasonably sure. Alice and I thought it was fitting that she had that room given her clear antisocial behavior, unnatural disposition, and the demonic behavior she has exhibited on more than one occasion even after over 30 different exorcisms between infancy and now."

A choked gasp hardly made its way out of Hadara's throat before the two women's heads jerked in her general direction, moving swiftly as they moved to find out if someone had been listening in on their conversation. Hadara barely registered their voices asking if someone was there before she was gone, hurling herself away from the tent and under the cloak of night to avoid being seen. 

It was with her heart thumping against the confines of her ribcage and cold sweat rolling down her forehead from exerting so much force on her tiny limbs that she finally laid down in the comfort of her tent and caught her breath.

She was infinitely grateful that she hadn't been caught eavesdropping on their conversation, or else she would likely face the threat of being sent to the psychiatric ward once again-if only to protect what they said from being repeated to anyone else. 

Then again, with the gossiping cow of a woman that Alice stupidly chose to divulge information to, that much would likely happen anyway. It was funny how she tried to make her organization more 'discreet' in regards to punishments or accusations toward Hadara, and yet she blabbered on her whole life story to a woman who never shut up. 

**_(End of Flashback)_ **

\--------------------------------------

After finding out so many tidbits of information and hurriedly trying to piece them together after an exceeding long, stressful day for even a 7-year-old with a prodigious mindset, Hadara fell fast asleep with Suni curled around and her blankets strung about her tent.

Unfortunately, between the late-night eavesdropping on the aforementioned conversation and being woken up horribly early, Hadara was just short of passing out in her bus seat on the way back to the decrepit place she was forced to live in. 

Even after finding out all the things she learned, she was still filled with countless questions that didn't seem like they'd be answered soon, though she came to a few solid conclusions about the entire bizarre experience:

Firstly, she was fairly certain that the person whose amulet she now wore was indeed the 'devilish boy' Alice was so fearful of because everything she learned about him tied well together and explained the occurrence of the living dead in regards to his demonic abilities that could only truly be magic (unless Alice was truly lying and exaggerating the entire thing) as well as the chance that the missing girl and boy were among the forces of undead trying to kill her. 

Secondly, magic existed. There had been more than enough conclusive evidence to lead to that being a fact, even if it was more than just a tad doubtful in theory as well as the fact that she'd never personally encountered a possible witch (or wizard?) or person.

Thirdly, the only true mystery that remained was of what _exactly_ happened to the man and why he hadn't been caught for all the dead that lurked in that cave. Alice would have gloated heavily about the boy being found out and put to his rightful fate by the judgment of God, and yet nothing was said of that. But this wasn't that important of a question anymore. He was old, born in the late twenties and probably dead or nearly so, meaning there was no harm in her claiming his amulet as her own. 

Finally, the name Salazar Slytherin was probably the boy's and his 'descendants' were probably orphans like him with magic and enough cleverness to get into the cave and take the jewelry...in other words; Hadara Potter. 

In some distant way, the raven-haired girl found herself relating to this Salazar boy, what with their similarities in abilities perceived as 'demonic' and an obvious hatred towards the other orphans. That was where the similarities ended because Hadara wouldn't let her only legacy in life become a piece of jewelry or whispered tales between two gossiping women about an old story just barely present enough to inspire fear.

She was young, but she was ambitious. Her life would mean much more than that, and it wouldn't be stories that would be passed on through generations...there wouldn't be generations to pass it on when she grew up and was strong enough to show them all who she really was. They would pay for each word, each blow, each crumb of food that didn't pass through her lips and so much more. 

Perhaps there were a few lasting questions, one being the engraved letters in her bedframe "T.M.R" or where exactly the rest of the people that had the beautiful ability of magic were...but she would find out in due time.  

For now, she breathed in the chilly October air deep in her lungs and held her new amulet close to her chest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Hadara...How wrong you've got it!!
> 
> If there's any confusion with the dates in Alice's whole family background, it's probably because I have hardly any brain cells left after being quarantined inside for so long with this coronavirus stuff. Please stay home and safe everyone! Hopefully this chapter made some sense if only a little! Byeee <3


	9. A Howling Saint

_**December 1st, 1988** _

Among all the emotions one could experience, anger was undoubtedly the strongest emotion one could feel...some might argue that love was, but they were greatly mistaken. Love was fleeting. Love was forgotten and abandoned either in favor of something better or greater or just due to the sheer unreliability that was love. Love was unreliable because love involved people and people were selfish. 

After all, why else would orphanages exist? Perhaps children were placed in them due to the death of their parents- yet another proof that love was unreliable because people died and left you without care-, but that wasn't the case for the overwhelming majority of those at Wools. No...almost everyone was abandoned by their family- the primary example of who was supposed to love them by default. 

Love...love was a trick, a lie, and a weakness for those who fell for its sweet deceiving nature. 

When Hadara hoped for love or thought the embrace of a mother and father or a sweet brush of lips against her forehead telling her she was wanted was just beyond her grasp, she was left standing in the dark, watching them speed away and leave her in this miserable place because they hated her gifts- what made her special, stronger, _superior_. 

Anger, hatred, and rage boiled underneath her skin and set her nerves alight. Though she could certainly be blinded by the anger, she could appreciate the power it gave her magic...power that controlled the fates of those who hurt her and set her dark emotions to cause them the pain they caused her.

It was this emotion and her magic-as intimately entwined and connected they were to form her very being- that manipulated the police car that drove off from the spot it was parked at the curbside before the orphanage and sped quickly down the snow and ice-slicked street with the almost audible laughter of its passengers ringing in her ears tauntingly.

She shot it a livid green stare. The wheels skidded across the road, the unfortunate driver losing control of the wheel before the tires rammed and spun across a particularly deep pothole before in a dizzying twist and sickening screech of metal, the vehicle was flipped over and skidded several feet forward from the sheer force that was her command-her _magic_.  

In mere seconds, the wrecked heap of metal and tire was set ablaze, caused by whatever internal mechanics and mixture of leaking gasoline that led to such an occurrence, to the unseen, unknowing eye that is. What no one would even think to guess was that during this day of tragedy, death, and the cleaning up of both was that the accident (and the resulting fire, even) was that this was no accident, but retribution for the anger and pain of a girl. 

The reasoning, Hadara thought as she drew away from her window overlooking the scene from the height of the top floor of the orphanage, was that the two passengers in that car had been Abigail Jane and Officer Matthews- or rather the new adoptive father of Abigail _Matthews_. 

Why did this matter?

Officer Matthews was the one that promised to look after Hadara after she'd convinced him that Alice had been abusing her. This was a promise that took place just after Hadara slipped away into the growing crowd of people outside when the orphanage caught erupted in flame, killing Agatha Cole (supposedly- truthfully she'd been long dead). 

Though she'd expected him to have forgotten about this right after the 'accident' occurred what with her well-known distrust in adults, she'd been surprised to find that over the following years, he'd continued his daily patrols around the front of the orphanage in an effort to remind Alice of his presence in the event he caught her abusing Hadara or the other children.

Hadara had merely fabricated the story by using what Agatha used to do to her and pinning it on Alice to dissuade him from drawing any unsatisfactory conclusions about her regarding Agatha's death, but it was surprising how easily he forgot about a possible fact regarding her being involved when she provided another target for his scrutiny. However, this was just another manipulation she saw occur within the orphanage and outside. A manipulation she used for her own purpose. 

Though there wasn't any real physical abuse, at least by Alice's own hand, his presence proved beneficial from keeping the woman from trying to enforce 'chores' on Hadara as Agatha once did. These 'chores' were more like tasks that would be assigned to child slaves with how long and taxing they were, and there were plenty of workers that were _hired_ to do those things so it was a definite benefit.

Hadara suspected even Alice was smart enough to understand that if he caught sight of her doing such labor all day long without rewards or food, Alice would be out of the orphanage and into the back of the now totaled police car in a hurry.  

In addition to this, Officer Matthews seemed to genuinely care about her well-being as he had promised on multiple occasions to keep close watch around and within the orphanage and to provide her anything if she asked- usually books, shampoos and washing stuff, or snacks and the like. This didn't mean that she had an attachment to him as she'd never particularly bothered with his presence beyond getting what she needed, but she had figured that it was greatly useful to have someone like him on her side of things as so few people were. 

She wasn't stupidly yearning for affection and familial relations as she'd once been, because now she knew that adults and other people, even, weren't to be trusted especially if they tried to make you trust them. They were simply self-serving and didn't actually care about her or anyone else for that matter. She knew that the only person she could trust was herself, and perhaps Suni, and even if the man asked her if she wanted to be adopted, she would say no.

Maybe he'd care about her for a while- pretend like she was the perfect daughter adopted or no, but the minute she showed any sign of her unnaturalness, he'd be filled with the same hate and disgust as everyone else and in turn, so would she. 

No, she would never have a family or anyone like that as long as she was superior to everyone else because they would fear and hate her power, the power they would never have or even comprehend.

It'd be different if it were someone else that had the same abilities as her, but the last person she knew of like that was probably dead or nearly so by now and so far she'd seen no sign or even a hissed whisper from her snakes of anyone else like her...not one sign or an uncomprehensible event like the zombies that tried to kill her or her rose that lived through the winter like the one that remained even now in the barren white snow littering the ground. 

She'd left just one, as the rest died with the lily after that spring just before her fourth birthday. It was fitting- alone just as she was, stepped on and ravaged by the cold but still surviving because of magic; her magic, that is.

Magic...she'd never thought of her powers like that, but it was clear to her now that the force that breathed with her and hated with her and performed the most impossible of acts created by her mere thought was magic, alive as anything else.

It was the most beautiful thing of all, even when it froze everything in its path or crushed and set ablaze the vehicle that now had a miss-match crowd of firefighters and policemen, an ambulance, anxious nuns and nosey teenagers spaced apart and yet crowded around it in a frenzy of action and shouts and water leaking from a hose and blaring sirens and all the useless attempts to rescue the two within. 

Love...Hadara loved Suni not as a pet but as a friend, but even with the snake's ability to converse with forked tounges and sibilant hisses, Suni would never truly understand her as she now knows after she'd thought about things from her own lonesome perspective. 

The only thing or force or being on Earth that would ever understand her was her magic because it wasn't something foreign that was on the outside of her but rather within. It was the only thing that had been with her since birth because even when her parents abandoned her, it remained and kept her alive and _loved her_ , and, in turn, she gave it her loyalty.

She rejected the only other thing she'd ever hoped for: family because she could never have one as long as she had magic and she'd never been able to bring herself to reject the only thing that never rejected her even with all her ugliness and hatred within. Magic was and would be her only love, and yet, she cried when she saw their remains- the black body bags that showed her that her intent had been strong as ever. 

Hadara cried for them...the officer that was kind enough to her because of the lie that made him do so, the girl Abigail _-Jane or Matthews, it didn't matter because she was no longer either-_ the girl that relentlessly bullied Hadara until she responded with fire as she often did in an argument that gave Abigail a permanent disfigurement on her face and left Hadara to be beaten by Agatha over a shed full of alcohol that was set ablaze following the argument. 

Why had she done it then? If she was going to feel grief for them in the end? Why had she killed four people, four people...she'd killed four people and was only four more years in age. _Eight. Four. Eight. Four...still, she couldn't feel any empathy for Agatha or the boy that hung from the ceiling. They deserved their fate._

Truthfully, Hadara knew a very simple answer to her questions and though it made her a monster, she knew it was one of the things that made her _better_ , too. 

It was anger, and anger killed those people.

When she learned from Suni who listened in on Alice laughing with her fellow sisters about the 'nosey fool of an officer' finally being rid of when he moved away to a new job position and city to care for his new adopted daughter, poor scarred Abigail Jane of age 9; A girl who'd been hurt by the Potter whelp, and was now finally getting a chance at happiness and a family, she'd been completely and utterly livid. 

Why was it that Abigail got a happy ending? What made her so special and worthy of it when Hadara had been denied any chance at adoption before she could even talk? What made her the victim of the entire situation when she bullied Hadara, who only attacked her after repeatedly being provoked?

Even if the man asked Hadara if she wanted to be adopted, she would have declined as previously stated, but the fact that he never even asked and just skipped to Abigail Jane, who was no match for Hadara's intellect and talent...It made her extremely angry. Beyond the slight weak emotion of sadness and grief even now, anger still won over it all because it was always, _always_ the strongest emotion. 

Why should Abigail have family, if Hadara couldn't...when Hadara was superior to her in every way? Why should an insect like her have anything? That's all they were- insects, and that's why they died because she was stronger than them and therefore was free to decide their fates.

It was a truth she knew better than many, a truth she first learned when Agatha and the other orphans hit her and mistreated her freely without repercussions before she became stronger than them and struck back.

This truth was an absolute one: _The strong rule the weak._

\--------------------------------------

**_December 25th, 1988_ **

In spite of the age-old brick, stone, and tile that made the solid walls of Hadara's room, the loud noises of laughter and just barely mumbled conversations made their way through in broken fragments of noise that tugged at the girl in question's attention until she was left vexed and wholly unamused. 

A heavy, thick knot of pressure made itself known at the front of her head just above her hideous scar, her lip curling upwards in utter distaste of the stupid festivities and the equally stupid people...but mostly the people. The workers, orphans, volunteers, church members in association with Wool's Sunday church service or mass, and even just the very sparse few local business owners were in attendance at a Christmas party hosted by Alice and her group of hags. 

As if having to be in a constant near vicinity of them wasn't torture enough, now she had to listen to their droning voices and high-pitched laughter while trying to do her homework. 

Yes, homework- minus the, well, _home_ part of it.

What an annoying matter it was, regarding the ridiculous amount of work she'd been assigned over the holiday break when everyone else was lying on their backsides and stuffing their faces with holiday treats. It'd been determined by her new teachers that she would have to work harder than everyone else in her year to show that her advanced placement was the right decision on part of the school board. 

Last school year, when her scores were once again too advanced for her to remain in classes with the 12-13-year-olds it took the board several of weeks to decide whether or not to let her skip another year ahead after the year already started or to simply allow her to continue in the same year regardless of whether or not she was too advanced for it. They ended up deciding on the latter, much to Hadara's ire.

They left her in the same year level for the remainder of the year before she was finally able to move up normally when the next school year began, to where she was finally at now; year 9. 

Though the teachers acted like this decision of making her work harder this year was a choice they came up with on their own after careful consideration of her contrasting age, Hadara knew that they'd only come to such a decision after her, an 8-year-old first showed up to a class of 13-14-year-olds and the other students soon came to realize how inferior they were to her even more than the year before.

Once the students complained to their ignorant parents about having to spend yet another year with a little kid far outclassing them in scores, the spineless teachers agreed to test Hadara harder and give her more work so that they weren't contacted by angry parents and given backlash for her placement in their classes. 

Still, despite the clear inefficient, unfair system that was their underfunded public school trying to deal with first and likely only prodigious mind to walk its halls, Hadara remained completely indifferent when she was given more difficult test sheets or giant piles of work to complete while the others got away with a sheet or two. 

The work was tedious and demanding, but still fairly easy to deal with in spite of her teacher's warnings that she may fall behind the others and, not to mention, this was more of an opportunity than an annoyance regardless of her bitter feelings on the subject. 

What opportunities, you may ask? Well, when this work was finally completed and turned in before being given perfect marks, it would prove her point that she was meant to be exactly where she was and that her intellect was not to be questioned. Completely foolish it was, for anyone to think that she was to be undermined when she never once turned in anything short of perfect and her grades and record were as pristine as the snow decorating the outside world. 

A soft sigh escaped her parted lips at the new presence of her headache which didn't dissipate even after she commanded for it to do so or for their ruckus to quiet. After a short period of this continued annoyance, Hadara decided that she would be better off taking a break for a while. 

With her sheets of maths homework folded neatly and tucked into the pages of her chunky textbook and out of sight, for the time being, she was free to collapse onto her bed, wondering what she could do to amuse herself while everyone was too engrossed in the festivities to be of a real annoyance to her. 

By now, she was sure that she'd already read every book of interest in the nearby library as of the recent time, tiny and cramped as the place was. In addition, she'd taught herself more than enough foreign language than any of her teachers bothered to, and she was disinterested in attempting to paint or draw with her raging headache. 

 _{Suni! Do you want to go for a walk?}_ , she called out to the serpent who was basking on her heated rock and looking thoroughly relaxed in her yellow-orange beauty. In the time that passed, Suni grew a little over a foot in length and gained a bit of thickness to her, but showed no signs of getting any larger than she was as of now much to Hadara's gratefulness.

With her newfound length, it became increasingly difficult to hide her in the sleeves or folds of Hadara's clothes and she absolutely refused to be shrunken down as HAdara suggested on many occasions, stubborn as the reptile was. She claimed a snake's size was one of the testaments of their strength and that she wouldn't allow hers to be diminished so that she could be stuffed up Hadara's sleeves. 

Though Hadara wasn't completely sure how old Suni really was given the snake's confusing replies on the question, usually containing the number of sheds or mice she remembered experiencing or eating, it was safe to say that she was still fairly young in terms of age, but mature in terms of growth- whatever that amounted to in years. However, she noticed that with her new size came a more mature way of speech. 

Hadara smiled in amusement at the snake in question when she hissed her versions of profanities (almost always with some type of derogatory term towards frogs, mice or insects), before huffing in her snake-like way and staring at the girl in an affronted slitted gaze. 

 _{I cannot walk, as I have no legs like you, you foolish child.}_ , was her reply. 

Ignoring the insult, Hadara chuckled, turning on her side and regarding her snake with a dainty smirk, _{You know well enough what I meant, now, come on, it's nice outside.}_

 _{Nice? You have injured your head. Those despicable ice flakes are falling from the sky and the rats are hiding along with the other serpents. There is no reason to go outside unless you are going to give me a fat, juicy rat.}_ Suni wasn't the slightest bit interested in her child's shenanigans, lying back on her rock without another hissed syllable. 

Shaking her head as she rose from her bed, Hadara responded, _{I'll get you a rat when I return, you scaly drama queen.}_

Ignoring Suni's responding complaints, the dark-haired, green-eyed girl swept away from the room, throwing a dark red jacket over her shoulders as she disappeared down the shadowy winding staircase without preamble. Quietly, she crept through the halls that echoed with laughter and the quiet murmur of dull conversation interrupted with the jingles of bells and broken church music sung by the hoarse voices of old women. 

Only the sections of the orphanage in use for the festivities were lit up with bulbs of garish Christmas lights, the warmth of a fire and the smells of baked treats while the rest was left cold and dark to save on the electric bill because Alice had spent more than needed on giving gifts to the poor orphans in order to show her charitable nature to her group of giggling old hags and their bored husbands. 

It was rumored that the matron spent a hefty sum on food and drink for her guests, meanwhile, Hadara was certain that the luxury didn't extend to the children she pretended to love, much less her. They'd be given leftover scraps for weeks to come while Hadara got nothing and was left to fend for herself, as always. 

When had she last eaten anyways? It'd been at least a full day, what with her confining herself to her room to avoid the presence of all the children and workers forced to clean the halls for the first time in over a year. She'd been careful to stay away and do her work alone in her room lest she is told to help and has no choice but to decline in a show of violence. 

Her stomach grumbled at the thought of nourishment and giving her the ever so helpful hint that she couldn't ignore the problem. Thinking of the best and quickest solution, Hadara pressed her pale hand to her hollow stomach and decidedly pushed open the doors to the outside, enjoying the flurry of snow that fell from the night sky decorated the dark strands of her hair. 

There were hardly any stars in the sky, and the moon was new and therefore left the sky a dark and empty expanse of space mirrored in her vivid green eyes. 

Where to go?

There weren't any restaurants, fast food or no, as Wool's seemingly placed on the very end of London with nothing of importance nearby. There was the run-down old building a little under a mile away from the orphanage where most of the kids from Wools went to school (grades 1-12 crammed into the nasty building), and the equally run-down school more than a few miles away from the other- her school.

She was placed further away from the others at the other school so that the normal children didn't have to be in her presence or under her devilish influence, agreed on by Alice and Agatha when she finished the dismal schooling offered by the orphanage. 

Other than these schools, in close vicinity to Wool's, were various abandoned dilapidated buildings with boarded-up windows and collapsing roofs that were probably once of importance but were now a source of complaint for everyone that knew many teens of Wool's and local gangs smoked, drank, and partied in. The closest was right next door, however, it was little more than a heap of rubble given all the time that past with everyone trampling and playing in it despite the nun's warnings. 

There were dark alleyways between these buildings, with heaps of rubbish piled on top of each other that rotted and smelled of death, especially in the hotter weather luckily now they were covered in a layer of snow, much like everything else outdoors. Beyond these eyesores were long stretches of empty lots with overgrown grasses and broken glass bottles. 

No real liveable neighborhoods were near the orphanage, but many older people from all over London came to the Orphanage, whether to attend mass because of their family traditions of doing so because they were somehow affiliated with Wools, or to come and work or volunteer as only the only people that lived and worked in the orphanage were the cook and those close to Alice that _supposedly_ had several duties. 

The only possible sources of entertainment on this apparently barren, tiny strip of earth were the local library- a place that only she ever seemed to visit, much to her pleasure, the next town over which they made monthly shopping trips to (once weekly, but lengthened to monthly after Alice took note of Hadara's suspicious abundance of cash and realized that she acquired it from questionable means) and, lastly, the bakery situated closely to the orphanage owned by close friends of Alice; Mr. and Mrs. Unimportant. Hadara cared little about their names. 

The bakery was in horrible shape and of questionable cleanliness, only kept in business by those old crones that attended Sunday service and brought with them boxes of cookies and cakes to bribe the kids into pretending to like them. 

Though Hadara didn't exactly fancy overly sugary foods, she felt a deep grumble in her stomach at the thought of the bakery and the sweet aroma of a custard tart, or a slice of apple pie sprinkled with cinnamon sugar.

Another low grumble came from her empty stomach, leading her to a rather sudden realization. 

Everyone in a near vicinity was either in the orphanage enjoying the celebrations or hiding out in one of the abandoned buildings celebrating in...other ways. This meant that the bakery was empty with its owners preoccupied, likely for a long while given Alice's big mouth that ran and ran. 

If she broke in and took...well, whatever was leftover and perhaps some money from the register, would anyone even know it was her? _No, they wouldn't._

A grin twisted at her lips and she was gone down the road, her boots pounding on concrete as she ran towards the small building, ducking under the cover of night when several footsteps and loud jeers were heard in the quiet night. 

An overgrown shrub and her innate ability to hide in shadows kept her hidden as she peeked out at the source of the noise. Hadara's eyesight wasn't superhuman, and as such she couldn't discern their identities from nearly a hundred feet away, but she noted that it was a group of three, sneaking away from the orphanage with duffel bags, either running away or going to party at a drug house on this great 'holy night'. 

Vaguely, Hadara remembered one of the people from their voices, a 16-year-old boy whose name she forgot, but she frequently stole cassette tapes for the walkman she also stole from him and money out of his bags. She didn't care to observe much more than that and didn't need to as they were gone down the next street under the cloak of cigarette smoke and jeering laughter.

Hadara's nose wrinkled at the nauseating stench, but one of them staggered around on their feet as they rounded the corner, belting out the entirety of 'Jingle Bells' in a broken tone before falling flat on their face. Her disgust was replaced with amusement at the sight. What an idiot!

When she was certain that no other people were following after them that could spot her and they were completely hidden from view, she drew herself up from her half-crouched position, laughing all the while. "I guess we're all in the Christmas spirit", she murmured, sizing up the bakery. 

It was a fairly cramped building for what it was, with large windows that took up most of the outer walls which had a shelf displaying fake but realistic-looking cakes and pies on it- covered in an absolutely _scrumptious_ layer of dust.

In all actuality there were several ways of breaking and entering, all learned from trashy television shows or movies Hadara watched (on the occasions she was able to sneak into the 'break room' where the workers who didn't live within the orphanage went to relax and watch the tv they bought by pooling their meager salaries), or she could use _it_ \- her magic, to unlock the doors and grant her easy entry. 

Nope, she'd rather not waste her gifts on the likes of Alice's friends...besides, they were right arses. Every time Hadara went into the shop to buy or steal a quick snack after being famished for too long, the wife made mocking remarks about whatever was wrong with Hadara's existence that day while her creep of a husband stared lecherously at whatever young girl came into the shop- sometimes her, to her utter disgust. 

He was a registered sex offender, yet Alice allowed him and his wife to work right by their orphanage full of children because she simply didn't care. This was a fact that even the stupid dead officer Matthews never took note of, even when the information was available if he ever looked for it and many orphans gave several hints to him when he was still alive. 

Hadara supposed Alice would continue to keep it under wraps from authorities even when all the other kids knew he was a disgusting worm because she profited from the business being near the orphanage; it brought more people to the desolate area which meant more potential adoptions. Even if she did bother to try and tell anyone, she'd be probably be ignored, accused, or called a stupid little girl that didn't know anything, or a freak that was making up lies.

Regardless, Hadara took care to scowl and act utterly disgusted toward the nasty man and was never, ever alone with him even when she was forced to get food from the shop after having no other options. 

Smirking nastily, Hadara dragged her heel against the worn stone path up to entering the bakery's door, grabbing the large rock that was unearthed with the movement and hurling it towards the glass display window, the resulting crash and shattering of glass louder than she anticipated. 

The glass anticipated into dozens of pieces, leaving a wide space with a few larger, jagged pieces of glass kept in place by the stubborn window framing. With a satisfied grin, Hadara lifted her leg across the empty space, hoisting herself fully inside once she was able to drag her limbs out of the space and into her surroundings- a dark room of heavy shadows just barely outlining what she knew was there. 

After gawking around to make sure, once again, that no one was nearby, Hadara watched her palm become alight in flame, nearly stumbling on the broken glass littering the floor before frowning in disappointment at her utter lack of coordination. Gazing at her dimly lit surroundings, she noted that the bakery was set up in an objectively simple way, with a large glass case lined with trays of goods where customers could choose what they wanted. There were also a few tables for sitting and eating that had seen better days. 

Hadara was certain there were more old chewed up pieces of gum under those tables than there were kids at the orphanage. Regardless of the disgusting, worn state of the place, luck was definitely on Hadara's side as there appeared to be no other security systems present in the building though that was to be expected given that everyone was too poor to afford anything more than a lock and key in their unfortunate area. 

This meant that the girl was more than free to take whatever she wanted, so for the fridge she went. It took some shuffling through their heaps of rubbish belongings in the back to find their kitchen, which was tidied up with clean dishes; pans, baking trays and such piled up on the metal countertops, drying.  

Hadara navigated around various tables used for rolling out the dough, probably...she didn't bake often considering that she wasn't allowed in the cafeteria anyway and she had to _trespass_ to get food. 

Getting to the fridge didn't take long, and it was worth the effort as it was absolutely stocked full of food. There were giant tubs of homemade jams and custard fillings and frostings and such, but the girl wasn't interested in becoming diabetic anytime soon, but she was saved by the other stored foods; small glass bottles of strawberry milk with chopped strawberries floating in the bright pink liquid, as well as some different flavored yogurts. 

On the healthier side were a few small bags of assorted fruits-likely meant for pies or tarts as well as some blocks of cheese and bagels of all kinds. 

Hadara was eternally grateful for her foresight to wear a larger jacket, which had big enough pockets to fit a couple of milk bottles, a block of cheese wrapped in cloth, a few bagels to eat with the cheese, and a small bag of sliced fruit. She didn't take any more than this as it would have gone to waste or spoiled. 

Once she was loaded up with her own personal feast for the night, she turned her attention on far more important matters- the cash register, which was protected by a lock to which the key was either hidden or on the person of one or both of the owner's. 

However, with a simple tap or hushed command from her, it would have been enough to open the ancient-looking thing. As it was, she had no trouble opening it, only to peer inside the metal compartments for change and paper money...only to see that it was empty with not even a speck of dust filling its contents. 

"You must be joking!", Hadara exclaimed uncharacteristically exuberantly. She'd underestimated them, thinking they would leave the thing stocked full of cash because they were thoughtless insects. Apparently they had enough foresight to clear it before they closed the building, not naive enough to forget that they were surrounded by thieving children.  

Well, there went that ambition. However, though Hadara wouldn't deny that she was indeed ambitious, she was also somewhat of an opportunist and If she couldn't get what she came for then perhaps she could have something far more satisfactory. 

That group of kids that left the orphanage with the duffel bags would be a point of focus given that they likely wouldn't be returning to the orphanage until the following morning, which meant that any misfortune that occurred would be blamed on them. 

They deserved it- any trouble she could cause (an awful lot when she could be tempted to do so) because the woman was nothing more than a disgusting flea for allowing her husband to work by and gawk at children like the perverted disease he was. Even if they were perfectly nice people that were so kind they deserved no misfortune or accident to befall them, she would do it anyway. 

Why? Because she could, because she was _bored_ and the universe, fate, whatever it may be, lined up perfectly for her to cause chaos to people she didn't like- people that disrespected her- who was far above them and more powerful than they could even imagine. And, her magic yearned- screamed to be let out and to be one with her and her will. 

Call her brash, or irresponsible, but she could practically taste the satisfaction she would feel when the owners saw what was done to their shop and came to the realization that they got exactly what they deserved. 

Yes...the runaways, rebels, whatever they were or claimed to be- they would be the perfect source of blame as everyone hated them; Alice most of all. 

That was it then...Hadara laughed in delight, stroking the warm surface of her beloved amulet tucked under the layers of her shirt subconsciously as she molded her palm of flame into a sphere that she threw towards the furthest wall, nearest the kitchen. She watched with malevolent, wicked green eyes as the fire licked up the ghastly floral curtains hung over the walls in an awful taste of decor. 

The girl would never get tired of watching the fire consume and conquer as it did best. The brightness, the shadow, the warmth and the cold of it all...warmth that she would never feel from another, but only from her power, her freakishness, her _devilishness_ \- her magic...so beautiful it was!

Still, as pretty as the fire was and as superior it was to the glisten of ice and frost, or the streaks and brilliant lightning...she didn't fancy getting found while committing an act of arson. 

And with that sudden obvious realization, she jumped out of the broken window and made her way back to the orphanage under the cover of a blizzard and the dark night, as her feet pounded against the worn road slick with sleet and a breathless laugh bubbled in her throat. 

She didn't need garish decorations, cheap toys that would be returned the next day, or forced pleasantries to have fun... _unlike them_. 

What Hadara failed to notice was the gleaming amulet, alight in a greenish hue despite there being no visible moonlight or cause for such, as it was her feelings of hatred so very present in the girl that was so young and so naive were neither heightened or hindered by the object, but fed upon with the gluttonous hunger of the sentient magic of the pretty, superficial jewelry.  

\--------------------------------

**_December 26th, 1988_ **

"Up! Get up this instant!", came a rumbling shout followed by thunderous knocks against the wood of a door. When silence followed and it was made quite clear that the girl in question hadn't even stirred from her lazying about already so late in the morning, Alice knocked her fists against the battered wood once again, with far less patience than before. 

"GET UP THIS INSTANT YOU HORRIBLE GIRL!", her voice screeched when she made herself known loud and obnoxiously, her care for dealing with the situation at hand quietly gone with this surge in her irritability. 

Registering a disturbance in her slumber, Hadara awoke with a jolt, followed by an immediate scowl, as dark and twisted as her hair- braided back to prevent bedhead though it was still, much to her displeasure, in slight disarray. 

A bleary green eye blinked open, narrowing at the continued shouts for her to get up intermingled with insults that lacked profanities. 

 _{What a lovely day},_ She hissed in bitter sarcasm to no one in particular as she rose from her bed, watching her over-sized second-hand pajamas become hidden under a long black dress robe that was a blanket before, now plush despite the creativity its design lacked- an issue with most of her clothes that were altered by her whims and orders. 

Dimly she mused on just how happy she would be the day she was wealthy enough to buy whatever she wanted, whether it be a necklace with fat gleaming diamonds or a fine red leather jacket...or a tattoo...when she was grown up. 

Another shriek broke her out of her childish musings and motivated her to carefully tuck her amulet under the folds of the robe and to pick a duvet off her bed to lay over Suni's enclosure. The reptile was still unmoving and uncaring as she was still full from the rat Hadara _summoned? popped into existence?...whatever_ from the bowels of the orphanage for Suni's hunger. 

Once those issues were carefully taken care of and she asserted that the treats from her escapades the night before were long gone, Hadara finally opened her door to the oh so quaint songbird that woke her from her slumber. 

Rather than screaming and slamming it close, the green-eyed girl gazed up at her unwanted visitor with a barely hidden acidic glare. From Hadara's height, the woman's heavily wrinkled features folded inwards on each other, specifically her chin- or rather, _chins_ , from that upwards angle. 

Practically foaming at the mouth in utter furiousness, the woman grouchily said, "Come with me to my office at once!". The toad then proceeded to reach and grab at Hadara's tiny shoulders to steer her to the location herself, marching away angrily only for Hadara to remove the offending appendage from her shoulder with a cool stare. 

"I can walk by myself, thanks", she bit out, moving ahead to the office at her own pace. There was a snide remark on Alice's end, something about her minding her tone and acting with respect, but she was already far ahead and had already reached the entrance before Alice picked up her sluggish pace and beckoned Hadara in the room with a snarl. 

Rolling her eyes, Hadara entered the room and stood defiantly behind the tiny worn chair at the other end of her desk, put at such a low height that Alice's desk would appear giant in comparison and therefore threatening. After years of dealing with manipulations like this, seeing through them and turning them against the manipulator came as easy to Hadara as the masked grin she gave Alice when the woman closed the door behind her.  

Alice said nothing but narrowed her eyes, making her way to sit at her chair on the other side of Hadara's, which creaked and groaned under Alice's weight, which was significantly heavier after she spent the holiday season stuffing her face with holiday treats all winter. They say black is slimming, but all Alice wore was her black nun's uniform, and she certainly didn't look slim. 

"I assume you must've heard the sirens last night?", Her tone was accusatory but filled with uncertainty. It was easy to tell that she was only grasping at a possible suspect before she fully placed the blame on the older kids from the night before. 

Still, Hadara knew better than to be anything less than dishonest or deceiving when it came to talking to her, or any adult for that matter. 

"What sirens?", Hadara questioned with a look of complete and utter confusion plastered on her face. It was so convincing, so well practiced that Alice, even knowing all that she did regarding the nasty creature she was and having fallen to her manipulations before, faltered. Perhaps the girl was just this once telling the truth. She slept like a rock despite her banging on her bedroom door for several minutes, so it wasn't inconceivable that she slept through the sirens and the blaring of the fire engine. 

Doubt.

Hadara's smile tightened. 

"The Davison's bakery burned down last night and the damage was awful! Someone broke in and set fire to the place...all that the firefighters managed to salvage were a few of their belongings. A couple of teenagers went missing from our walls last night- around the same time the fire started."

"That's awful for them, I've always loved their pastries. I hope that they can find them and put them in prison...But what does this have to do with me?", Hadara's tone was littered with befuddlement, but she made great care to not appear entirely ignorant. She would see through that much. 

Alice scoffed, frowning deeply all the while...given her clear proclivity for pyromania and her wretched character, she wanted to ask her if she knew what occurred and whether or not she had anything to do with it but perhaps this single incident was not one of her doing, but those awful worthless hooligans.

This would explain why they were still missing as they had the tendency to get up to sinful shenanigans at night and come back the next morning which they hadn't done- they were clearly hiding from the authorities. 

"I hope that they are found as well...however do not think for a moment that I'm not watching you closely and know that your continued disrespect when I address you and your awful disposition won't be tolerated. Another snide remark to me or the others while they are working to provide an environment for you- you miserable, unappreciative girl and I will have no choice but to confine you to your room without meals until you can behave properly while under the roof and the guidance of our Lord, who you will abide by!"

Hadara inspected her nails, half asleep after enduring Alice's neverending rant which went on for several more minutes, getting on the subject of her druggie parents and Hadara's horrible antisocial personality, unsettlingly cold voice, and her too-long hair. 

The antisocial personality part was strictly a load of bollocks. Maybe if the people around her weren't complete and utter morons, She'd wanna be involved with them (yeah..not likely).

"Is that all, then?", she yawned, ready to leave her dreadful presence. 

Alice spluttered in response and Hadara took that as her cue to go, leaving the room swiftly while ignoring her continued droning. 

When she left, all at once the crosses, nailed paranoidly to the wall after Hadara's repeated taunts, shook until they spun upside down on the walls.

A resounding shriek echoed from the room and with it came Hadara's responding laughter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I've explained Hadara's schooling situation well enough. I realize it might be confusing, but imagine a school that's not well funded with students from a poor area that don't care much for their grades or classwork finally having a student very well advanced and a child prodigy.  
> I imagine they'd be confused about how to deal with that type of situation without much backlash, which leads to Hadara having nearly a month-long break in October of 1987 (The lake trip) before they decide it'd be easier to keep her in the same year so she finally goes back to school. She then moves up another year normally when school starts again in September of 1988.


	10. Examples and Realizations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is Hogwarts letters and Diagon Alley! I'm so excited!!! :)  
> (If I made any mistakes this chapter, please kindly let me know...I have been on an awful sleeping schedule and it's messing with my brain)
> 
> Also fair warning: a bit of graphic violence here in this chapter, so watch out for that if you're squeamish.

**_April 10th, 1989 _ **

_Cold. Heat. Fear. Horror. Confusion. **Rage.**_

Colors, images and their respective emotions flashed and swam across her heavy-lidded eyes, blank and empty of emotion because this, surely, couldn't be happening. No, this had to be some sort of sick joke or a hallucination caused by her tiredness or a momentary lapse of sanity. 

Still, the sight before her- gruesome and gut-wrenching like something out of a horror movie or her absolute worse nightmares, showed no sign of changing or righting itself. There was no ripple or distortion of the image, no crack in their jeering voices or her resounding scream or even her choked breaths; caught in her throat like a butterfly flapping its wings while trapped in the vortex of a tornado. 

The silver amulet pressed close to her out of familiarity-always a pleasant warmth to the metal was now hot like liquid fire against the flat, immature planes of her chest. It was tighter, too, the chain suffocating her as she struggled against it and against the harsh reality itself. Her face was hot and damp...with tears, she realized when their voices cut into her with each sneer and cruel jibe against her. 

"Ms. Alice says snakes are evil, just wait until we show her this! She'll have to reward us and the freak will get thrown out on the street where she belongs!", a voice from the crowd cheered all the while. 

"The monster really does have emotions! Who knew?!", came another voice, screeching so harshly that spittle landed in with the mess of tears trailing down the girl's cheeks pale glistening cheeks. 

"Serves her right- for keeping a dangerous pet like that!", Lainey Lewis taunted, the younger sister of the boy Hadara made hang himself over two years before- Jaxton Lewis. She'd always stolen from Hadara, kicked and shoved at her and overall loathed the girl in question, even more so and to a more violent degree after the death of her brother. 

"Yeah! It could have killed one of us!", yet another voice from the crowd of kids yelled indignantly. 

"Ah, but that's what she wanted! She's a devil! She killed Agatha and now she wants to kill us too!", Oliver Reed, a 13-year-old boy that relentlessly bullied Hadara years ago before she attacked him and his younger brother, who responded to Oliver's shout with a grin that was all teeth. 

"No. She's not a devil...she's worse- SHE'S A FREAK!" Noah Reed jibed, who, together with Oliver harbored a dark and intense hatred and fear of Hadara after she tortured them both right after years of their relentless bullying pushed her towards doing so. Jacob Adcock, the boy that once commanded them to hurt her and taught them why they should hate her, was long gone from the orphanage as he'd turned 18 long ago. If he were still there, he'd be right there with them- a part of her suffering. 

Limp and broken at their feet in the circle of people surrounding her in a wall of accusatory tones and twisted contemptuous faces of equal parts hateful and fearful- was Suni, her beautiful yellow-orange scales covered in blood and her gushing insides from the various wounds on her form. Her jaw, gentle but strong as it had been, was crushed and bent at an unnatural angle with her forked tongue smashed under the weight of it.

She lay, dead in a mess of her own mutilated entrails and pinkish-red fluids.

They snuck into Hadara's room, found the snake sleeping on Hadara's covers while they were destroying what little belongings Hadara had, shoved her in a sack and stole her, only to crush her body and stomp her to death. 

Dimly, the small orphan girl registered that her library books were strewn across the yard, knocked out of her hands by the two boys and covered in her own vomit that spewed from her throat after she saw what they did to Suni, her _only_ friend. 

She'd only been gone for twenty minutes... _twenty minutes_ , and now her best friend was dead, paraded before her and mutilated even after death as Hadara stood frozen in shock with her legs locked as she was unable to move and was forced to witness the horrifying scene amidst their laughter. 

They killed Suni. She'd never wake up with her friend curled around her limbs and bemoaning how Hadara moved too much in her sleep. She'd never be able to argue with her again or talk to her about meaningless things while she ignored and avoided anyone else. 

Suni was dead- because of them...because they killed her and broke her body beyond even Hadara's repair. 

Another wave of nausea threatened to spill the few contents left in her stomach. Hadara choked on bile, watching through horror-filled green eyes stinging with the flow of tears as they dug and cackled at her- all of them, with the three that maimed Suni and those watching the monster freak cry with glee. 

"Not so strong are you now, you bitch?", Lainey smiled with mockery, smashing her heer against Suni's skull with a sickening crunch that Hadara flinched at, looking away from the scene in hopes of disappearing right then, waking up from this horrible nightmare. 

"That was for my brother. I know you killed him with that freakishness you've got!" The girl scowled as she dragged her heeled boots against the grass and dirt, wiping off Suni's remains with a look of disgust before turning in on Hadara with renewed anger. 

"Yeah! You're the one who should be dead, you worthless freak! You hurt us so we killed that disgusting pet of yours!", echoed the two brothers at once. 

There were more jeers and peals of laughter at her grief-stricken look combined with shouts of encouragement for them to stomp her head in next, but Hadara heard only the wind rushing through her ears and the building of magic and power under her skin.

She saw nothing beyond red..the fluids leaking from Suni's corpse and glistening under the glare of the sun- strangely cold against her skin, which erupted with goosebumps. Her chest heaved with her breath returning to her and with this breath came clarity...over everything she saw and responding rage that overtook even her sadness. 

Hadara's hair, a long dark curtain of night, fell over her face and her bangs into her eyes- a malevolent poisonous green that gleamed with a vicious crimson red in its depths if one were to look closely. 

The sky above them was formerly a tranquil pale blue but darkened with a quickness that caught the attention of the children, a good majority of whom ran inside with shouts about rain and their clothes getting wet and muddy which would lead to lectures and heavy discipline from the sisters who bemoaned such things. 

Before the rain began, the winds picked up with a hurling speed and clouds continued to roll in with the beginnings of the pungent sharp aroma of ozone that carried through. 

Among the sparse group that stayed to watch the- four remained, Lainey, Oliver, and Noah closing in on Hadara without care as they continued their onslaught of vicious insults and mutters of how she deserved to die like the disgusting reptile all while shoving her down until rain began to fall in cold droplets and she was eye-level with the bloodied corpse of her dear pet while braced on her elbows.

There were responding sneers and feet that kicked her forward into the dirt until she was sprawled on the ground covered in a mixture of dirt, blood, and entrails. 

Suni's lifeless, accusatory eyes stared dully into her own. 

The sky became almost pitch black with the beginnings of streaks of jagged lightning tearing their way through the sky in the distance. The blinding white streaks were reflected in Hadara's own eyes as she righted herself once more, without a word or hint of the rage that was tearing her apart or the pain in her chest and pressure behind her skull or the grief and sorrow she felt over a lost friend. 

When she was standing once again she sent a glare furiously burrowing into the three other sets of eyes that reflected back a growing sense of fear and concern. With the worsening humidity in the air and the sheer anger rolling off Hadara in electrifying waves, she spoke only a few words that left them shaking in fear; their faces of sadistic glee toward her misfortune gone. 

"You hurt Suni...so I'm going to hurt you, too", she whispered, her words ringing in their heads, her voice cold as ice and as sharp as the edge of her lips that pulled tautly into the shadow of a sneer- malicious and dark. The swiftness and force of the wind blew her dark locks across her, fanning out hauntingly before them all. 

Impossibly, the sky above darkened further as clouds drew together and covered every inch of light that could shine down upon them.

There was a flash of light, a disturbance in the formerly clear skies that came in the form of a much, _much_ closer jagged streak of lightning. It was a brilliant flash of purple-white that electrified the very bones of the girl, hurling itself furiously down on them as the screams began just after the skull rattling thunder rang out in the heavens. 

The smell of burnt, charred flesh and the continued screams kept her on her feet despite her exhaustion, because she had a purpose and as long as there were screams, there was cause to end them and fulfill her purpose. 

They say lightning never strikes twice in the same place, but it did that day, and in quick succession, as Hadara drew upon every drop of power- _of magic_ that was within her grasp, envisioned it dissipating and disturbing, electrifying the sky only to rain down on the ones that hurt her friend mercilessly. This continued for mere moments, but in those moments three streaks of lightning each rushed down on the three forms amidst their weak screams of pain. 

Slowly, the screams lessened to incoherent groans that soon befell to silence as they succumbed to exhaustion, weakness, and pain in a heap upon the muddy, puddle filled ground. 

Hadara struggled to her feet and for her consciousness to remain so that she could end what they started and only through sheer desperation and stubbornness was she able to remain upright. Her magic, the very source of her power, was severely depleted with her energy and likely wouldn't return for a while, but in the end, she stumbled to her feet and rasped out the words that she needed to say. 

Lack of energy and an abundance of fatigue nearly led her to deliriousness, but nonetheless, she was able to stand and look at the dozen or so faces of the ones that stayed to watch her get beaten or spat at, only to see their friends fall to her power. 

The faces- pale white and drained of blood out of sheer horror, or green-tinged with disgust at the metallic, burnt smell in the air or the burns covering the three orphan's unconscious bodies, stared at her in open-mouthed silence. 

An uncontrollable urge to laugh at them, the butt of a cruel situation as she'd just been, won over and she cackled in a semblance of haughty glee, her dark hair twisted in waves that tangled about her face without the tidiness that was typical of her with her laughter high and chillingly cold, "Guess you're all not too strong now, are you?" She used their words against them. 

A smile, grim and twisted painted her pretty, dainty features in a horrifying contrast and she circled around them with as much balance as she could, sneering, "Remember this day and remember that I am and will always be your _better._ Speak a word of this to any of the workers or Alice, and the same with happen to you that has happened to them...but do let your miserable friends know that I won't hesitate to do so to anyone I wish. "

With this final threat, Hadara promptly dissipated in a blur of smoky matter, the messy remains of her snake wrapped in the cloth of her dripping wet jacket and clutched to her chest with the utmost care. 

Even with her leave from the immediate area, the sky remained dark and clouded, and the rain continued to fall down on them in icy droplets. 

Some ran inside to alert the workers that there had been a 'freak accident' with a nearby telephone pole and lightning and now three of them were injured and unconscious, while others vomited at the sight or stood locked in place from the trauma and the fear their actions brought, but all of them now knew that what truthfully occurred was to remain a secret and that the freak girl was an even bigger monster than anyone could have guessed. 

That day, there were various rumors spread around those working within the orphanage and those that came for the church service as well as the children who hadn't witnessed the event firsthand; some were reasonable and others were downright preposterous even in regards to the truth, but all were carefully constructed to try to make sense of the accident and what came after. 

How strange it was! Three orphans were playing outside when they became the victims of a big freak accident with, presumably, lightning and a nearby electric pole or perhaps the metal gates that surrounded the area...strange, that all three would suffer near-identical injuries and would thereafter be likely permanently hospitalized for the brain damage and many burns they had. Even stranger was the sheer amount of blood surrounding them when they were found despite their wounds being burns. 

While those rumors would go on for a good, long time even after the accident, no answers against anyone or force could be found. Alice Cole, with her hatred for a specific young green-eyed girl, sought to blame her first, but not one of the children would say anything in regards to her, and the woman couldn't find a single thing to show that her unnaturalness had any part in the event. 

After all, Hadara had been found by the matron soon after the incident, and she'd been a good distance away, digging a small hole in an empty field to bury a poor animal that became roadkill she found while on her way to the library, her body and clothing untouched. 

Those children that had seen what she was capable of, spoke nothing of it, knowing that they would befall the same fate. This fear kept them from even taunting or saying a word to or about the snake and the freak girl. 

As for Lainey Lewis, Oliver Reed, and Noah Reed...their hospital stay was extended permanently and they were sent to mutual homes, being mentally incapacitated and unable to perform even basic thought, speech or motor function- vegetables for the rest of their lives after the lightning essentially fried their brains beyond repair. 

Poor girl, everyone said in regards to Lainey- who had a brother commit suicide in the very walls of the same orphanage before she would in a way, die on the orphanage's grounds a couple of years later.

Whispers of Wool's Orphanage being a cursed place where spirits sought vengeance or where the sorrow among abandoned children grew and festered into a disease of death and bad luck spread like wildfire after many doddering old women told stories among each other, having noted all the misfortune that seemed to occur around the area and chalking it up to spiritual reasoning, as they so often seemed to do. 

\--------------------------------------

**_ January 1st, 1990 _ **

A new year- decade, even, to be exact, and yet she remained in the same worthless miserable heap of rubbish as before, where she would likely remain until she hit the age of maturity, or was able to graduate from school and move on to university.

As her schooling progressed further and she was placed with students years her senior-and did well in her examinations and was completing her qualifications, it was becoming clearer and clearer that it would likely be the latter, as she'd be graduating a bit earlier than age 18 and would likely resort to some alternate schooling abroad or similar in order to make up the gap in time before she was a bit older.

Given the scholarships already lined up for her, anything was possible. She hadn't exactly decided on a specific plan of what she was going to do yet as she still had plenty of time, years even. 

On to other matters at hand... it was _New Years Day_ , which was, in her opinion, a time where fools sought out an excuse to make resolutions they weren't going to follow beyond giving them a minimal, short effort before resorting to being or doing what they'd promised to change from the year before. 

She was surrounded by people like this- buggering old women that made resolutions to lose weight off their hips and middles or those that clutched their gleaming metal crosses and decided that they would devote more time to their lord. Neither would do what they promised to do and the year would pass and the cycle would begin again with false promises and such. 

Cycles- they were a larger part of her days more than ever before. After the death of Suni, and her responding bitter, icy demeanor, everyone finally began to leave her alone, avoiding her like the plague. Alice, however, had decidedly made an effort to turn her formerly unassuming lectures into sterner actions.

The matron knew nothing about the lightning incident that would turn her suspicion on Hadara, even though the girl worried such, but she simply wanted Hadara under her control and that was the reason for her actions, which were carried out shortly after the three insignificant worms whose brains Hadara gleefully cooked were permanently hospitalized. 

Alice took to keeping an annoyingly close watch on Hadara through her fellow sisters, as well as confiding her to her room after Hadara told her to kindly go to hell following a particularly long lecture about her tongue from the woman (which, in retrospect, only fueled the hag's point).

Hadara was also told she would not be given meals, to which she gave a rather nasty response about never having gotten any in the first place- landing her, in total, three weeks of confinement. This was incredibly stupid as three weeks without food meant almost certain death, however, Hadara had ways to get around that issue so she merely glared at the woman and walked away, using her magic to make Alice break out in painful hives right afterward. 

Though her 'confinement' would have been torture for someone who didn't have the powers that she did, it was easy for Hadara to get past any regulations the woman tried placing on her. For one, she'd practiced her ability to essentially appear in a specific place she envisioned from another- a gift she lovingly referred to as 'blinking'-, and was now experiencing less distortion and difficulty when doing so.

In addition, Hadara was able to blink a little under 5 miles away and used this ability to her advantage by getting food with stolen money or stealing the food itself from the few places in those areas, all the while kicking herself for burning down the bakery when it would have been a much easier food source. The library and book stores were a frequent place of visit as well, however, she was limited to those seldom choices. 

Alice's imposed punishment truthfully affected Hadra little other than the significant increase in which she left the orphanage while blinking from her room and going wherever she was able with such a small radius- all just to spite the woman, of course. She never caught on as even her most faithful hags weren't devoted enough to go anywhere near Hadara's room to check and see that she was still there. 

As it was, Hadara grew increasingly distant from the orphanage and impatient for her future and whatever it might entail- distant as it was. Sometimes, it felt as though she were waiting...yearning for something, though what she could not say or guess at as all she knew was that her restlessness was neverending. This time she took feeling these things was also spent testing and examining what was always on her mind and her attention: Her magic. 

This became important to her when the more she tested it with basic commands and then more complex feats, she came to the realization that subconsciously the thoughts she put behind her magic and the actions it carried out caused it to perform what she intended.

When this, a realization that should have been more than obvious, came to light, she nearly punched herself for not bothering to question or to look deeper beyond the simple truths of what she could do or to seek, above all, knowledge.  

Magic was, for all intents and purposes, energy, more specifically the energy that flowed through and was _her_.

Magic was her thought and intent, and it could only ever be as strong as the understanding and power in the thought and intent that was it. A basic example of such was her ability to, in crude words, make something float above the ground. This was accomplished by Hadara pushing her magic outward with the thought and intent needed to do so until her magic was essentially able to lift the object by affecting it and gravity itself. 

Another example was the ice formations she could manifest, which came to do so through envisionment and intent behind her magic, which then caused to it form ice or water from the magic depending on what she desired and intended. 

So, with that being discovered, she started over, in order of what she first gained the ability to do. She questioned, tested, formulated detailed thoughts to make it stronger, and learned the best way she could on how it worked, each and every gift she had. She was nowhere near done, however, she was pleased to have some semblance of progress in understanding her magic- a beautiful, wicked thing, it was. 

Other experiences, unfortunately, left her with far less pleasant realizations, but important ones nonetheless. 

Suni's death, she came to understand, had been partially Hadara's own fault; she'd always been the one who waited for someone to give her reason to prove that she was powerful and was to be feared. She reacted to examples set by others, sometimes even giving them second or third chances-a weakness that showed a disgusting part of herself that thought they would lessen their ill-treatment of her if she showed a good side to them or a kindness.

Suni died because of this, but, rather than succumbing to her sadness or fury over the fact once again, she used her wit and her innate sense of self-preservation borne from years of abuse and rules and masks made to survive her situation and she, to the best of her ability, hid this weakness and learned from it. 

After her death, she made an example out of the others- set an example herself to ensure that there would never be a misunderstanding like that and that pain would become them if there was. She showed them that she was their better, their _superior_ and that they were mere ants beneath her feet. 

All it took was showing them the gifts that made them hate her from the beginning, using her magic to cause those three insects to hurt and they witnessed her power, feared her striking them with lightning next, and they fell quiet and avoided incurring her ever-growing wrath. 

It was a sudden change that left the adults in charge confused, fearful, and wondering when they no longer heard shouts her way or stealing of her belongings or anything else they may have done uncaringly before they realized exactly what would become of them. 

It was simple; they witnessed, and they feared. An example was made and she truly became a monster- an aberration, and a thing to fear and never question, but to know that she was above them and her power- her freakishness, made her so. 


	11. A School of Magic?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said Diagon Alley was supposed to be in this chapter but it felt really awkward trying to fit that and Hadara's introduction to the wizarding world below what I already wrote, and I figure some suspense is good.  
> This is a pretty short chapter too...and I rushed writing it, but please enjoy and leave comments :)

**_July 24th, 1991_ **

Gazing wide-eyed at the lithe, shadowy figure of an animal flying just outside her window, a choked gasp ripped from the girl's throat as its beady dark golden eyes made contact with her own brilliant, slightly frightened green.

Why on earth was an owl, of all things, flying outside her window in the middle of the afternoon in broad daylight? Reasonably, she was befuddled- and what was that in its beak? A package? Owls were supposed to be nocturnal, and yet here was one rapping loudly at her window in the day time!

For a moment, Hadara questioned her sanity, but after determining that it was as intact as it had ever been, she wondered if being a postman or woman was now declared a lost art, tossed aside in favor of resorting to messenger birds like they- the general public, that is- were ancient Persians or Romans. 

Another particularly rough, obnoxious smack against her window made her flinch and subsequently open the old rickety thing with a great strain of her weak tooth-picks for arms, letting the offending bird in her room after it glared harshly at her. With a great gust of wind from the action, the owl swooped in flapping its great tawny brown and white speckled wings. 

Somehow, the creature managed to sneer at her with accuracy she would've thought only capable of a human if she'd never conversed with the vain creatures that were snakes, however, she did speak to snakes whenever she spotted them, more than she did people and such, so she merely offered the creature a bland unimpressed stare. 

With a breathy huff, the bird perched on the edge of her worn bed frame and dug its talons harshly into the surface. 

"Where did _you_ come from?", she questioned dazedly, moving forward to inspect the owl with awe.

While it was true that many animals tended to take a fancy to her, she never once had an owl fly into her bloody room- and a good thing too, considering the serpentine company she used to have and how fast it would have led to the owl's peril. Sure, there had been a fair number of ravens that allowed her to stroke their majestic black feathers before flying off and onto better things, as well as some stray cats that purred happily in her presence but never an owl!

The bird reared up and nipped painfully at her approaching finger- nearly drawing blood as it stuck out its leg and dropped the mysterious post it carried into her limp hand uncaringly.  

Quirking a brow at the rather curious, unreal situation that this was, she lifted up the thick expensively papered envelope and looked over it. 

'Ms. H Potter-Black, 

The Chilliest Top Floor, Room 27,

Wools Orphanage,

London', it was addressed oddly specifically in bright emerald green ink and calligraphy that couldn't be the result of a simple pen- but what caught her attention most was the vibrant red wax seal on the envelope, which depicted an intricate stamp with a crest far too classy for...well, anyone that she knew would send her a letter.

A sharp hoot from the impatient owl still perched despite having carried out its mission of delivering the letter told her that she was taking far too long wondering about the post, so, she eagerly ripped open the seal and pulled out the parchment folded neatly from within. 

If anyone were to have seen her in that embarrassing moment with her eyes bulging outwards in shock, Hadara would have effectively burst into the flames she was so proud of. As it was, Hadara was alone and therefore free from human scrutiny -though not owl- as she read the letter with trembling hands that made the task more difficult than it should have been. 

"HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore ( _Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_ _Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

Dear Ms. Potter-Black,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

_Deputy Headmistress."_

Attached to the letter was another sheet of parchment, which read,

"UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

  1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
  2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
  3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
  4. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)



Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_

_by Miranda Goshawk_

_A History of Magic_

_by Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory_

_by_ _Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_

_by_ _Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_

_by_ _Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions_

_by_ _Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_

_by_ _Newt Scamander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_

_by_ _Quentin Trimble_

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad."

Hadara's first thought upon reading this letter was that someone was foolishly trying to prank her, sending a letter like this with explicitly unnatural content- perhaps in hopes that she would respond and reveal her freakishness for others to see, but after a long searching pause, she decided that this couldn't be so. After all, the idiots she had the misfortune to be around were far too thick to think up something as complex as this- much less procure an owl or the luxurious paper or stamp. 

Still, if this were a real document, then she was left with hundreds upon hundreds of questions, the main one being the additional name they added onto her last name. Potter-Black? Was even her real name something she didn't know- added onto her background, her family history, and everything else? 

Vaguely through the thick emotion of anger, she recalled her first conversation with a snake at the zoo years ago...Jormungard, the serpent, mentioned something about a letter and a school. She'd long forgotten most of what he told her that day, but the reemergence of the day she discovered that she was a parselmouth brought another inkling of something important she'd forgotten. 

It was at the forefront of her mind, a nagging sensation that she'd forgotten something vitally important. Absentmindedly, she tugged and dragged her fingers over the surface of her amulet in distress.  Well...no matter, pondering on it would not bring the information back to her and there were far more pressing issues for the time being- namely the glaring golden eyes being into hers.

The owl was clearly awaiting her to give it the reply mentioned in the letter.

Hadara still couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that the owl had not only enough intelligence to find her in what was literally the only desolate, uninteresting corner of London, but also enough to know to await her reply before flying off to wherever it came from-Hogwarts, supposedly.

The girl knew magic existed and that there were supposed to be many others with the ability, however, it still never ceased to confuse and amuse her how magic broke every law of science that had been drilled into her head for as long as she went through schooling. This would explain why she slowly grew to dislike the subject over the years, though, as all the principles and laws of each and every branch of science could be broken by her will and whims. 

    

    

She was already making objects pop in and out of existence, before she was introduced to such things, so believing what she was taught, proved a tad difficult. If it weren't for Hadara's everlasting desire to be better than everyone else- to be the greatest and the best, she would have likely given up on the subject long ago. 

This owl's intelligence had to be the result of magic, after all. 

Heaving a sigh that was equal parts breath and laughter, she ripped a blank sheet from her sketchbook and wrote down a quick but reasonably neat reply, 

"Dear Headmistress McGonagall, 

I have received your letter and invitation and I would be honored to attend Hogwarts starting on the 1st of September, however, I must admit that I do not know where to get the required equipment, how I would afford the equipment or where I would go to attend the school in question.

I would be greatly appreciative if someone (perhaps a professor?) could be sent to my address as soon as possible so that I may acquire the needed things in time and have my various questions answered. 

    

    

Thank you.

Sincerely, 

Hadara Potter."

Hadara thought that maybe she should have put the other last name down with her own, but she felt rather foolish about doing so when she didn't know if that was a mistake on their part when addressing the letters, or if she really did have two last names. Not for the first time she wondered if she really even knew anything about her past or family- or rather if she ever would. It truly made her furious to know that everyone else at least knew their names and she didn't even know if she'd been writing hers with something missing for her entire life. 

Regardless, she would find out first before she started following their lead like a mindless animal. It made her slightly nauseous acting so dutiful in her writing, but it meant knowledge about magic, the thing that she was most curious about, so she would suck it up. 

As soon as she offered the folded letter to the owl, it nicked it and flew out of her window and into the sky. 

A wistful sigh left Hadara's lips as the bird disappeared under the blanket of fluffy white clouds, but a powerful thrum of excitement pulsed from deep within. 

A school of magic? Could there be anything better than that?

\-------------------------------------

**_ July 31st, 1991 _ **

For the first time in perhaps all her conscious memory, Hadara felt genuine, lasting excitement on her day of birth, and even if it wasn't because of the fact that it was her 11th birthday but rather because of what was awaiting her, this was still by far her best birthday in all her time at the orphanage. 

Hadara checked over her letter for what was likely the 20th time that morning. The letter was a reply sent by the headmistress Minerva McGonagall detailing her acceptance of Hadara's request for a professor to meet her, answer her growing list of questions, and to take her to wherever it was that she could buy her school equipment. The date and meeting time set for whoever would be arriving to assist her hadn't changed after the 20th glance, unsurprisingly. 

Feeling rather foolish, her pale cheeks heated with shame at how overzealous she was acting- like she was one of _them_ , without self-control or grace. 

While the girl may be finally able to learn more about magic, the people that were like her with the beautiful ability, and even what must be a world enriched with it -for you can't have a school without there being somewhat of a significant population of people like her, which she knew there must be-, that gave her no excuse to forget that she was above their immature, uncivilized ways. 

Reigning in her emotions until she appeared outwardly cold and indifferent, Hadara looked over her appearance with a critical eye before inclining her head in a semblance of satisfaction.

Her hair-a long silk curtain of waves that normally reached past her knees-was pulled back into two snake-like twisted braids of ebony. Her bangs were left to frame her face and cover the wretched scar on her forehead. 

She wore a dark red pleated turtleneck that was at least four sizes too big on her thin form as it had been one of the few pieces of clothing she was able to steal from the other kid's rubbish.

Thankfully Hadara had found an old leather belt amongst her few belongings and was able to fashion it around her waist so that the piece of clothing served as a knee-length dress rather than a shirt. On her feet were an old beaten pair of black leather boots that had its fair share of paint splatters and splotches on it, as well as a thick white pair of socks to fill up the space of the boot, which was also a tad too big. 

This clothing, though ill-fitting compared to what she could have made, was free of magic and her influence as she didn't want anyone to know that she had the ability to manipulate things like that. She knew nothing about the school, after all, and it just as well could have restrictions about such things. There was just no way people were allowed to openly display their abilities for such things. There was a school for a reason, after all. 

If it _did_ have restrictions or rules, she would still do whatever she pleased, but she would be sure to cover it up as she was doing now to avoid getting caught or being put in front of anyone's attention. 

\---------------------------

Albus Dumbledore sat heavily upon the intricately patterned highbacked chair outlooking Hogwart's headmaster's office. Onn his aged features was a deep grimace pulling at the edges of his long silvery beard tucked into the belt of his flamboyant sunshine-yellow robes. The headmaster's eyes, normally a benevolent twinkling shade of blue, were sharper and empty of the grandfatherly kindness many knew him for. 

Today was a day of imminent significance as it meant the introduction of one Hadara Potter to the wizarding world, as well as the beginning of years of machinations and plans set into effect- all for the good of The-Girl-Who-Lived, of course. 

Dumbledore had to be sure that this day went well for it would define and begin to shape the beliefs she would hold and the actions she would take; beliefs and actions that must lead to the inevitable defeat of Lord Voldemort, or rather Tom Riddle as Dumbledore still chose to call him, a defeat that would be for the light and the greater good for the world at large; both Wizarding and Muggle. 

Unfortunately, as much as the headmaster would've preferred, he was regretfully unable to attend to the girl and to influence her perception of him positively as quickly as he would've liked as he had a large pile of paperwork to attend to and the duties of being headmaster of the largest wizarding school in Britain meant that it was a matter that could not wait and had to be attended to immediately.

It was getting closer to the start of term with each day, after all, and the closer it got the more work he would have to do to ensure that all was sorted so that the next year could start without issues. Not to mention his morning had been spent insuring that Hagrid transferred a certain stone from Gringotts vaults to their school without any notice or issue, which meant that he had much to catch up on. 

This unfortunate circumstance left the other professors to chose from but Minerva was busy with the task of introducing some of the Muggle-Born students to their world which would be a long arduous task, and she would have been his first choice given her strong Gryffindor affiliation. However, their friendly relationship had been strained for a long time after his placement of young Hadara with her Muggle relatives- a decision which to this day the woman resented. 

On more than one occasion she told him to be sure to check in on the girl, but the silver cube-shaped instrument tied into the wards around Privet Drive had never once illuminated and triggered the alarms, meaning that the girl was still in the home and likely doing well. Though hopefully not too well. 

The matter of choosing a professor had weighed on his mind for a while as Severus was not an option as the man, though loyal to their cause, served as the head of Slytherin house, something young Hadara should by no means be exposed to. 

Neither Filius nor Hagrid would have been wholly appreciated given their abnormal statures and abnormal heritage. The Dursleys, he knew, would not have been open to having them in their homes and he wanted the process to be swift and without issue. 

Dumbledore ended up choosing Professor Quirrell, as he had been the best option out of anyone else given that, though he had been recently hired for the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and little was known about him, he had been a Ravenclaw in his Hogwarts days- a safe option for the girl.

In addition, the man was afflicted with an awful stutter that would keep the girl from potentially learning more than she needed to know about the unsavory things about their world. Not to mention he seemed to always be looking over his shoulder out of fear of the vampires he was rumored to have encountered abroad. Poor man. Hadara would arrive at Hogwarts woefully ignorant for his making which would make things much more pleasant for the both of them. 

The elderly wizard furtherly approved of his choice when the nervous man showed up to his office and stammered out his acceptance of the task of taking the girl to Diagon Alley once it was explained. He'd been so obviously nervous but was pleasant enough in and gratefully accepted what he was told without protest.

Yes, he smiled, offhandedly shoving a copy of Hadara's acceptance letter in the man's sweaty palm without even once bothering to look over the address to know it was amiss, chuckling and kindly wishing the man luck as well as advice to be careful of the muggle family as they weren't particularly accepting nor pleasant. The Defense professor left the office with jittery movements and the fumbling of his limbs as he struggled out his thanks.  

Dumbledore failed to notice the vicious, angry red gleam in the man's eyes as his gaze swept over the envelope and the disgusted sneer that accompanied it because the envelope did not say Number 4 Privet Drive, but a place that managed to be much, much worse- for him, for her, and for whatever plans he sought to use in his manipulations of the girl and of circumstance. 


	12. The Leaky Cauldron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh...I know I write too much and this chapter was supposed to include Diagon Alley, but it's already too long (nearly 10,000 words) and I expect the next chapter to be even longer so please don't hate me and be patient!! I luv you guys. Thanks.

Quirinus Quirrell shuddered and writhed in pure agony that burned like fire lightning his veins and boiling him from the inside out with the heat that grew beneath his skin. Alight with heat and pain and misery, he struggled until he was little more than a mass of nerves riddled with torment- as he always did when he realized his mistake of letting the dark lord in his head, where he ruled over his every movement with fear and anguish.

But, as always, he was far too weak in the wake of his master's power- a power so vast and great despite being severely weakened by the circumstance that was his possession of someone far beneath him, little more than a sack of skin and bone for his own use. 

His struggle ended in a choked scream silenced when the control was once again in _his_ hands, Quirrell's thoughts, conscience, and weakening magic that the monster constantly fed off hungrily, all his own to command. Quirrel felt the sensation as they switched places, felt himself disappearing into the back of his own mind for the time bring to watch powerlessly until he was needed again to play the role of a stuttering professor and he welcomed the dark and the silence over his pain.  

In the Defence professor's murky dull eyes was a sheen of red, crimson violence that blinked into existence before they reverted back into the original nondescript, unremarkable color.

With this change came others; a straightening of posture held with a regal, dark air, a morphing of expression from shock white and fearful to furious and sneering, his speech would come to change to, from stuttering shaking words that barely flowed from the man's throat to dulcet tones that persuaded and ordered death- tones that didn't fit the wiry professor at all but rather a man of much more importance and power; Lord Voldemort. 

His eyes glared in contempt and deep-seated hatred at the building before him, the place in the world he had very much never wanted to visit again and would have taken great pleasure in setting it ablaze while their filth was sealed inside- killing those insects and purging the land of their dirty, talentless blood. He lamented his neglectfulness in having not done so when the chance was before him. 

There was the same scent of dank rubbish cooked under the sun and permeating the area with as much stench as the _Muggles_ themselves, a scent he was forced to experience as a boy after the insufferable old coot turned down his requests to stay at Hogwarts during summer each and every year he asked...among other unpleasantries. 

The loathsome, worthless old man had only further proven that he was indeed senile- too foolish and blind to see that he sent the Dark Lord to retrieve the Potter girl right under his crooked nose- not only retrieve her but to serve as her first introduction to the Wizarding World when she was living with foul Muggles. It was almost as if the man had practically paved his way to the girl. 

A contemptuous glower permanently marred features that were not of his own as he caught sight of the repulsively pathetic building engraved within the deep recesses of his earliest memories. The surroundings were now decrepit shambles of what he vaguely recalled to be shops peddling food and wares that everyone had always been too poor to buy.

The disgusting muggles were of course too neglectful to tend to the battered buildings and rickey remains; loathsome as they were. Across the dirty streets was the blacked remains of a building that had clearly been set ablaze and subsequently destroyed, further proving this fact. If wizards inhabited the area, it would never appear so ramshackle and unsightly.

There were more overgrown fields and heaps of rubble than ever before, with alleyways piled with garbage and dark and dank streets that all went to show just how far the area fell even further into poverty and filth. At the center of the ghastly scenery was _Wool's Orphanage_ \- a title that held as much hatred in his mind as the very word _Muggle_. 

Dark stone and brick piled to form a large ancient gothic style building that had likely once been a great feat of architecture before years turned the place into little more than a shadow of what it had once been, with high railings on the verge of collapse and stone that was chipped and eroded. It was a gloomy, lifeless place.

Voldemort scoffed at the thought of the doddering old man, who had severely neglected to check up on the girl who was claimed to be their 'savior', not having bothered to so much as glance at the address of where she lived. He nearly outright laughed at the idea of the man having a stroke when he realized that his precious girl-who-lived was placed in the same wretched institution as the feared dark lord. Even the headmistress McGonagall hadn't taken care to notice the girl's place of residence when signing the acceptance letters. 

Were knowledge of this oversight to get to the public, the man would be under the utmost backlash from the entire wizarding world, who was told that the girl had been placed somewhere safe and caring without the threat of death eaters or any other malignant forces and the idea pleased Voldemort to no end. Pity he had other ambitions before this.

This fact amused him almost as much as the fact that the girl was undoubtedly under at least a mild dislike of Muggles after being forced to live among them with a gift that was far better than anything the hateful jealous creatures could hope to attain. Not to mention that Wool's Orphanage had always been a place of severe Catholic faith and worship. If the girl showed even the slightest inkling of magical ability, she was likely treated, at best, sub-human with no small measure of disdain. 

The old coot severely went wrong with his choices on this one, however, Voldemort could only find a wide array of fortune in these mistakes, what with the possibility that he could get a start on running the old man's benevolent image to the ground before getting his own powerful body back and slaughtering him, and the chance that the girl could be of use to him if her hatred ran deep enough and her ideals could be swayed in his favor. 

If not or if her usefulness was limited, she, too, would suffer the same fate as Albus Dumbledore, and he found no little hesitation in doing so, as she was the reason behind the miserable existence he lived for the past decade and that would guarantee her the experience of no small amount of pain and terror before she died by his hand.

A rusted wrought iron fence twisted into a prison of twisted metal pointed dangerously at the tops, where a sign made of the same metal spelled out 'Wool's Orphanage', though there were a variety of missing letters that turned it into little more than a jumble of meaningless letters but he knew intimately of the place and what it was supposed to say. 

Though the sky was a calm blue, there was an ever-present nestle of ominous dark clouds that formed in a cluster at the very peak of the building, right where the last floor was before there were large wind-eroded columns at the top of the structure, encapsulating a very large church bell that he could remember vividly being a very large source of annoyance when it rang on Sundays where mass was held in the halls of the orphanage. 

The rusted gate guarded a very small yard of yellowing grass and bits of broken toys and rubbish where several children ran rampant in ragged clothing that same loathsome grey that he too was forced to don at a time. The children shrieked and laughed in broken tones, throwing themselves around in the mud and dirt like swine. His lip curled at the sight of the vile beings that were Muggles- especially Muggle children just like those he endured in his time at the wretched orphanage. 

With a mutter and a wave of a wand that was of detestable alder and not his powerful bone-white yew, the gate was unlatched from the other side and he strode through the yard with a nasty snarl at the common Muggle children that gazed curiously at him and his wizarding attire of robes. If he was not dead-set on his path to procuring a particular stone the senile old goat had somewhere in his possession, he would have introduced them all to the Cruciatus Curse before ending their useless existence. 

There was an unmistakable familiarity in his movements past the front door and into the orphanage itself while discreetly casting the Disillusionment Charm on himself, which would keep anyone from seeing his unannounced presence until he wanted them to. He glared menacingly at the revoltingly familiar interior of the place he hated being all his childhood, the interior that was in far worse condition and uncleanly in comparison to how he remembered it. 

The place hadn't changed much from all the years he'd been free of it, and even now he could feel the distant signature of his own magic saturated in the very rat-infested walls of the run-down building. In this, however, he could feel another unfamiliar signature of magic- powerful but wild and far more sentient than he expected. He could feel the ghost of it passing over his skin, hot like fire and yet with a shadow-like substance to it that was as dark and cold as his own. It was the Potter girl's magic, and the strength and mysterious power in it was captivating, to say the least.

A dark twisting staircase was ahead and he followed a path up the steps that he knew well, noting with some curiosity as he looked upwards that the rafters were he once hung a boy's rabbit was reeking of a dark, violent saturation of magic that confused him to no end, as he killed that boy's pet many decades ago and yet the magic was still present as if had only been a few years and not decades. 

Deeming the matter insignificant for the time being, he neared the 'Matron's Office' as it had been called in his time with a bloodthirsty look in his borrowed eyes. Wool's Orphanage,- to those that looked from the outside, was grim but acceptable for children that didn't have much hope for a future anyhow, however, it was an organization much more sinister than it seemed, especially to those they deemed unnatural.

'Mrs. Cole', as she preferred to be addressed, made the orphanage far more intolerable than it was. She was wretched hag of a Muggle that held a position of leadership during his years at the orphanage.

She had an incredibly strict set of principles and rules with a clear hatred of him and other children she thought didn't fit into her foolish ideas. Children were forced to attend many hours a day under bible study and were exorcised when they displayed any traits she abhorred.

He, of course, held the highest number of these along with the highest number of floggings than any of the other children, as the woman suspected him of witchcraft and other sinful inclinations- that is until he showed the woman how powerless and weak she was compared to his greatness and those punishments were promptly forgotten in favor of the revolting woman drinking herself to death, much to his amusement. 

Wool's Orphanage was a place where he grew to understand the simple fact that Muggles were worthless creatures and were inferior to those with magic. He knew that the savior girl had to have learned the same lesson when living among them- and that if she still cared at all for the insects she would effectively be killed with all the other blood traitors as soon as he retrieved a new body- his body. Blood traitors were of no significance to him and were little better than Muggles themselves. 

Muggles, as he knew well, were helpless fools in that they placed all their stock in the faith of their petty religions and false gods when, compared to their kind, wizards were the gods that they should worship and kneel before. 

The loud bursting of the office door opening and smacking against their wall shocked a woman into leaping up from her chair- a disgusting snarl on her horrid features as she prattled on shouting about trespassing into her private space and the various punishments that were guaranteed with the action only to suddenly end her tirade in silence.

She blinked up dazedly as he sent a very strong compulsion her way with a whispered incantation as Quirrell's detestably weak magic did not permit wandless or wordless spells as he could do with little thought in his own superior body.

He found no reason to try and verbally manipulate her into giving valued information as he was not going to waste any more time speaking to the muggle or spending more time in the place her left to days before he evolved from a lowly orphan spawn to the most powerful wizard alive. This place was nowhere for someone of his power and standing and never had been with his ancient powerful lineage to Salazar himself.

This was a wretched prison of Muggle guards that thought their foolish gods were strong enough to deem them authority over others when they were weak and talentless themselves and would cower under magic like the lowly subjects they were. Dumbledore's belief that Muggles and wizards could join together through love was perhaps his strongest source of disdain toward the man, though there were many reasons. 

After all, Muggles were too weak, fearful, or jealous to understand to even think to try to understand magic- the unsightly woman practically kneeling before him as he ordered her to tell him briefly about Hadara Potter so that he, her new professor, could be informed about the girl was proof of this.

The compulsion he cast against her would have done little but put a suggestion in a witch's head, but against a Muggle with an inferior mind, she was essentially under a weakened version of the Imperius Curse- very weakened but still effective. 

His first order was to know her name which was "Alice Cole", clearly the descendant of the woman who was in control of Wool's when he was an orphan, not surprising at all given their similar unpleasant looks and clear religious devotion if the many crosses nailed to the wall of the room and her nun's uniform were any indication. 

A dark fury shadowed the stolen face of Quirrell as Voldemort added a horrifying and painful death for the woman on his list of things to be done with the acquiring of his new body. The Muggle by the name of Cole that he knew was long dead given her age and habit of binge-drinking, but this woman was not nearly so lucky. 

She showed slight hesitation in offering her information on the girl before he discreetly cast another compulsion on her and her dark wrinkled features morphed into a somewhat dazed stare that was even more unfocused than before, with an easy expression of unconcealed hatred toward the Potter girl as she spoke. 

" _She_ was left on our step with no information beyond a blanket with her name and date of birth when she was a mere one year of age, by some circus freak of a woman that was no doubt high on drugs given the late hour she arrived before speeding off disorientedly. My sister took a deep dislike towards the girl immediately- and I couldn't figure out why at first."

There was a grimace that was present despite her dazedness, but she continued to speak as commanded, "She was a charming baby if a bit odd and unnerving at times. She never cried and disliked being held, but those were the only issues I noticed at first. However, as she got older she became a truly rotten brat of a girl- stealing food from the pantries, giving the other children nightmares until she was given her own separate room. The devilish girl even set a shed on fire and hurt poor Abigail!"

"I never could figure out if I was going mad or just imagining things, but t-then-!"

"Continue." He ordered her around again and renewed the mind charm along with one that would capitalize on her weak emotions rather than soothing the pathetic woman into giving him answers, though it was clear that she was slightly more strong-minded and stubborn than most Muggles, probably due to having such strong ideals and religious beliefs.  

"M-my sister took her down to the basement. I knew she hit her but it was for her own good. She is the worst sort of freak imaginable!" The woman screeched viciously with a glower at the thought of the girl and her deficiencies, her true feelings on the girl open for his dissection. 

Voldemort's eyes glared until there was a fine glimpse of crimson red in the depths and the urge to torture the woman grew rapidly. Hadara and him, though he loathed admitting such a fact, appeared to have much in common in regards to upbringing- with the same worthless orphanage and stupid fools that called their gifts freakish when they were so far below wizards it was laughable. 

The woman blubbered in a nauseating mess of her own snot and hatred, "They'd been down there- both of them, yet _she_ was perfectly fine and my sister was killed in a fire that started right where they had been before. I know she started it, she even tried to get that officer to come after me by manipulating him with her freakishness. She started it! She can make unnatural things happen with water, too!"

"She's a devilish girl, I've seen it with her own eyes...after my sister's death and I became head of this institution, things finally settled down! I thought all these years of exorcisms and beatings finally took effect and cured her. But then I scheduled a trip to the zoo, a nice trip for the children and It all went wrong because of her."

Voldemort listened to her driver as she mumbled, absolutely soaked with terror and anger. A dark smirk pulled at his lips with the mention of what the girl had done as it seemed she had control over her magic even without a wand, not unlike him as a child. With all these incidents, it was becoming clearer and clearer that the girl had a real violent streak and detested the Muggles as he did. _Perfect._

"I mean, how could that many snakes get loose? It had to be her, somehow."

Snakes? He wondered idly...but that couldn't be so after all. _Unless it was?_

"Then I get bitten, and it just happens to become mysteriously infected despite the proper care it took to it, and I'm sent to the hospital for quite a while. I come back and upon my return, a boy that had issues with the girl previously is found after hanging himself! It had to be her!"

"Oh?" That told him all he needed to know from the hag-like woman. The dark magic that clung like a shadow to those rafters hadn't been him even if it was disturbingly familiar, but it was a product of her magic that hung the boy like he hung the rabbit if the woman was correct. The-Girl-Who-Lived was a Muggle-hating murderer, or at least the biased idiotic Muggle thought so.

It was more likely she was mistaken on pretenses of hating the girl and her abilities, but if the possibility was the truth, then...how _fortunate_ for him. 

There was a sneer of disgust aimed at the matron followed by a hushed "Obliviate", as he erased the encounter from her mind, leaving the room quickly as a cloudy expression of confusion crossed her face with the effects of the spell. 

The weakening pool of magic that Quirrell possessed meant that there was a severe limit to the power and amount of spells Voldemort could perform. Even now with the little magic he used, he was getting closer to when magic exhaustion would take place and the quivering fool took control of his body again while Voldemort dictated his actions by whispering in the man's head and tempting him. He had only a few hours in control as it was. 

It surely didn't help that Voldemort was forced to feed off the man's magic to sustain himself, further weakening it and therefore making even this spell one of difficulty but it was crucial that the woman made no reference to his presence should the old fool come snooping around.  

He had to find the girl at once- that gleam of crimson in his eye showing just how deep his fascination was beginning to fester.

This expression quickly changed from one of intense curiosity marred with confusion as well as a pit of disgust, respectively. This change came when he saw that the girl's envelope which served as a means of knowing where he was going to retrieve the girl in the first place rather than an actual acceptance letter as she'd already replied to that, was addressed very strangely. 

'Ms. H Potter-Black', was written by the enchanted quill he knew wrote down the name of every magical child in Britain at the time of their birth- likely through blood magic in the times before the ministry was established, much less prohibited such a branch as being 'dark' through their bigoted idiotic reasoning.  

This quill allowed Hogwarts letters to be sent to all magical children at the appropriate time, already pre-written for when their day would come to attend the school. This quill's properties and magic were not known even to him despite his guesses, but he knew enough to surmise that such an ancient piece of magic did not allow for a mistake like that. 

The girl, strangely enough, had Black blood in her- in addition to probably holding the title as heir, given the false imprisonment of her godfather who left his status with the Black family vaults and properties to her as well. Regulus Black, too, was imprisoned in Azkaban with his older brother, but Sirius Black remained lord of the house despite being a blood traitor as he was never legally disinherited.

The man thought to be the traitor that got the Potters killed had been plastered in all the recent history books about the girl-who-lived, hence his knowledge on the matter.

She had to be a Black, in addition to having the title as heir- given that Voldemort's Hogwart's acceptance letter came saying his wretched name without the addition of Gaunt, despite being one thorough his mother. This must mean that the quill only added the Black name because she was of both Black blood and had the title as heir registered by her godfather.

If it were simply based on blood relations, Voldemort would have found out about his family history much sooner after seeing the addition of the Gaunt surname on his Hogwart's letter, but it took years to find out about his heritage and claim his titles because his mother chose to name him after that _Muggle_ \- hence the lack of Gaunt on his letter, because it used his legal name and he hadn't claimed his titles until much later. 

And, yet, Voldemort knew essentially all there was to know about the Pure-Blood families of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, as many served him or were an enemy of him, and nowhere in the recent history of the Potter family was a marriage between a Black and a Potter, much less a birth from the lines. This meant that the girl's father's side was not the reason for this being her name, which meant that her Mud-blood mother had not been a complete Mud-blood, after all. 

Perhaps even more surprising than this was the actual address, which was, coincidentally, the exact room that he had when he was a miserable resident of Wools.  

Raising the borrowed appendage of the worm of a man he inhabited, he knocked on the same cracked wooden door so ingrained in his mind from years of living amongst squalor and Muggle filth. 

A cold, haughty voice granted him entry from within and with the creaking of the door opening he was offered a clear view of the room that had once been his own. The same ghastly pairing of tile and stone decorated the walls and floors as it always had.

Though, much to his confusion, the same beaten wooden wardrobe stood against the wall that, too, had once been his in addition to the frame of the cot near the window which had once belonged to him as well, as he distinctly remembered carving his initials into the material with a stolen pocket knife. Clearly the Muggles were too impoverished to replace decades-old furniture or to at the very least have something beyond bare necessities. 

This was where the familiarity ended, however, as the girl had a few more possessions than he ever did in his time at Wools and apparently had objects that displayed a few different interests. 

Beyond these rather spartan aspects were a few shelves hung crookedly on the walls, displaying old jars of paintbrushes and supplies, what he could only assume were muggle music albums with rather offensive imagery that was definitely not approved of by the nuns as well as dozens of gold medals and trophies, though he was unable to discern exactly what they were awarded for.

A battered bookshelf leaned haphazardly against the wall, completely cluttered with the shelves packed full of books of varying subjects- languages, history texts, and such, from what he could see. However, perhaps in the greatest abundance were the many smaller novels lining the shelves stacked on each other to fit the space. They were by, of course, muggle authors, most of which Tom remembered from even his childhood- likely old, classical literature.

Clearly the brat was of many loathsome.. _.interests_. Hopefully, she would give up her Muggle hobbies in favor of something less mundane when given the chance. 

With a hardly concealed grimace of distaste, he focused his attention on the girl sat poised upon the cot only to find that she did not appear at all how he expected her to. Neither James Potter or his wife could be seen in her appearance. In fact, it was in his first glance at her that he knew without the slightest doubt that she was a Black and of high blood status and magic potential as well.

The sheer force of her magic hitting him head-on as he came face to face with her was shocking and left him gasping at the sensation of it. Her magic was wild, powerful, and of natural energy that he had never felt from an immature witch before. It burned like fire against his senses, which despite the unfortunate circumstance that was the useless body was inhabiting, were as powerful as ever before- comparable only to the old fool's.

Yet, despite the heat that coiled within the energy that rolled off her in waves of fire-like heat, it also sent a chill over his flesh and a shiver down the length of his spine that left goosebumps in its path. 

These reactions were completely abnormal in the face of a child's magic- which was usually weakened and more temperamental than powerful. He hadn't even made contact with the girl and yet he could sense the essence of her magic, which could only mean that her magic was special- different in a way that confused him to no end. The girl was different than the other children, and was, once again, much like him in that regard. 

How truly _frightening_. 

Placing his attention on the girl again and ignoring the way his attention wandered to the subject of her clear power, he focused wholly on her appearance- the appearance of a Pure-blooded girl when she was only thought to be a mere Half-blood, the appearance of a _Black_ and many other traits from Pure-blood families that formed to create a unique, uncomparable aristocratic beauty. 

Her hair was darker than he could recall her foolish father's being, a long, thick twisted rope of shining ebony that was a color not at all unlike his own or Bellatrix Lestrange's, whom the girl very much reminded him of at first glance- before his loyal follower had become unhinged and lost most of her good looks. The girl had a pale snowy complexion, which coupled with her dark hair immediately furtherly erased any semblance of doubt in his mind of the girl's lineage and cemented his belief that her mother had been a Black, after all. 

Danity arched brows, thick rosy lips, and angelic features befitting a royal Pure-blooded princess were carved onto her visage like a statue of white marble. Most striking, however, were her eyes which were a doll-like gleaming poisonous green- much like the killing curse, he noted. The thick curl of lashes she possessed was a very common feature of the Black family, if not one of the most notable features of their line. 

She was rather thin, and severely in need of new clothing that wasn't tainted by Muggle hands, however, she very much reminded him of himself at a similar age- in both appearance and magic, albeit a feminine version. They both shared dark onyx hair, a heart-shaped face with fine cheekbones, as well as a similar mouth shape and complexion. 

The girl's similarities to himself were almost frightening, but it would make it all the easier to make use of her and possibly sway her beliefs in his favor, as people tended to relate better and sympathize with others like themselves. When he was able to return to his original form, she would be all the more susceptible to his beliefs and plans and would, perhaps, be of more use alive rather than dead as he had planned. 

However, when the first look the girl shoot him was of thinly veiled distrust, calculation, and _challenge_ \- of all things before she covered it up with a very well-practiced persona, he knew it would prove to be an arduous task, but all the more amusing and with a feeling of smugness and pride that would arise when he managed to succeed.

And he _would,_ otherwise she was as dead as her worthless parents. 

\------------------------------------------------

Hadara resisted the sneer that threatened to show on her features at the sight of her assumed... _professor_ , who was dressed in strange robe-like attire that was very different from her mental image of what she assumed a real wizard looked like- though, admittedly, her only exposure to such things came from fantasy books and even those were heavily monitored by the nuns for any mention of devilishness.

The clothing was billowy and strange on his form, of an unsightly maroon against his too-pale skin. He stood strangely as if he was uncomfortable in his own body, awkwardly straight with his limbs. He was a balding man with features that showed a natural wary nervousness despite the clear practiced look of distaste as he took in his surroundings.

When he first shared eye-contact with her, an uncomfortable throbbing sensation in her scar made her instantly wary of him as scars weren't supposed to do that when they were long healed. After all, hers hadn't done anything like that in all her memory and the sudden unexplainable pain couldn't mean well with his appearance. 

Still, he was her ticket to a school of magic and people that might be unlike the other stupid orphans she had to live with, so she plastered on an innocent look in her shining green eyes and a pretty, charming smile that showed her pristine white teeth; a smile that won over many people that were not within Alice's area of influence- for her own benefits and rewards she could cajole from them, of course.

"Hadara Potter", she offered with a polite, cool tone and a small incline of her head. She did not shake his hand or move from her seated position on her bed, as he had yet to prove he was who he was thought to be and not some man from a mental asylum Alice hired to take her away under the guise of sending her to a school of magic. She wouldn't put it past the hag, even if it seemed far too intelligent for her sort. 

He introduced himself with a tone of disinterest, though his stare was of contrasting intrigue, "Professor Quirinus Quirrell. I will be your Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts and I will be taking you to retrieve your required schooling materials this afternoon, as you've requested. I was sent by the... _headmaster._ " The word was said with much loathing and Hadara's curiosity grew. 

"Before I go anywhere with you, as I have no real proof that you are who you say you are- would you demonstrate that you indeed are a professor, with your magic?" She felt foolish saying the word 'magic' out loud, but she showed no discomfort outwardly when the man leveled her with a curious stare before he pulled a strange thin stick of wood out from the folds of his robes, much to her confusion. 

"That's an acceptable request, though might I ask why? I don't suppose you've gotten letters and meetings with professors from other wizarding schools?" His eyes glittered when he spoke. 

Hadara leveled him with a frown of confusion at the question of whether there were other schools like this Hogwarts place, but she did not ask him the question as she preferred to find the information out herself. Her expression morphed into one of more irritation than she cared to admit.

It was obvious why she asked him to do such. "You could very well be a warden of some institution or one of _them_. The woman seems to think I'm mental, though it's clearly her who is." She didn't care to bother with hiding the hatred in her tone when she spoke. 

Quirrell looked at her carefully then as if inspecting a science experiment, before he took the strange piece of wood, made a well-practiced motion with it, and muttered hushed words that vaguely sounded like Latin. Inexplicably, her bookshelf was sent upwards where it hovered a few feet in the air despite the weight of all the books stored on it before he set it back down in its rightful place. 

She stared in interest which wasn't present due to the feat and was more so at the confirmation that she was, indeed, not the only person with magic, anymore. 

Her future professor seemed to notice the lack of excitement in her gaze as he questioned her, "Can you do anything similar to that? I'm aware it is immensely difficult to perform magic without a wand and on purpose-"

His words cut off when he smirked at the man, for there was a book that floated across the room and into her palm, where it now hovered several inches above the appendage with little effort on her part. "Why do you use the...wand? I've never needed it?" Was there something wrong with her?

The man, whose face was painted in an expression of shock, spoke to her quietly and conspiringly as he inched further into her room, "Wand-less magic, you will find, is a very rare gift held by only those with significant power. I suggest you keep that ability a secret unless you're willing to divulge that information for attention."

She scoffed to herself at the ridiculous insinuation. Never did she ever have to crave or try for attention- if any attention came to her it was from people who saw her gifts and talents and envied or feared them, as they should. Because she was superior to them. 

Professor Quirrell continued his explanation after a minute pause, "Almost everyone requires a wand and incantations to perform spells- like the charm I just cast. You will learn it this year with Professor Flitwick in Charms lessons; It is the Levitation Charm, with the incantation ' _Wingardium Leviosa'_ and the specific wand motions as you saw me perform."

How disappointing...She thought that if other people existed with magic like her that they would use it the same way she did. Perhaps she expected too much when she was essentially ignorant of everything that had to do with these unknown populations of people like her.

However, this revelation meant that her magic was powerful because 'wand-less magic' came easily to her but was much more difficult for them; just like her schooling, where she was a prodigy and others struggled to match her intellect. 

Hadara pondered to herself for a moment before she decided to find out more about this strange difference between her and others, but she added it to the neverending list of questions that came with being a witch; something she found that she could truly accept as the truth, now. The riddance of her doubts and constant attempts at making other excuses for why she was special left her feeling a semblance of contentment. 

As quickly as it came, the feeling disappeared and was replaced by new, hungrier ambitions- _knowledge and power_ , both of which she knew she could find at Hogwarts, or perhaps another school that was willing to take her. She wanted to go to the best place for her and her magic and she wanted to know everything there was to know about magic and the world of people that were like her. There had to be countless things that she had to learn. 

But, there were so many questions that she needed to be answered before she could even set any sort of true goal for herself. She didn't know anything, really and she hated being ignorant and clueless almost as much as she hated being powerless, though in a way they were the same thing.

Knowledge is power, and power is not true power without knowledge. 

Quirrel watched as the girl regarded him with a puzzled look as if she battled with herself about whatever subject she was going to speak on before she deemed it important enough to be verbal about. 

"As I'm sure you've noticed, I am an orphan and as such, I might not have enough money for the needed materials. What do I do in that case, professor?" She felt revolting at allowing herself to admit any sort of weakness to anyone- especially regarding her funds, or lack thereof given that most of them were spent on food to try and stay alive when Alice made that more of a task than it ought to be. 

Calculatedly, in the best possible way for his own self-image, while also reminding himself that she had no knowledge beyond the vague existence of magic and of Hogwarts, he formulated his response carefully, "That will not be a necessary worry for you. Your parents have left you their vaults at Gringotts, our wizarding bank, which should provide you more than enough funds for your schooling." 

Hadara's mask of cold indifference fell quickly and she felt the man scrutinize the dark look that passed her visage- a mix of confusion, realization, and responding anger all at once, her fingers tightening on the frame of her bed and shaking at the motion. The heat rose significantly in the room at that moment and a livid icy green was present in her narrowed eyes. 

Though she didn't know it, Voldemort could see it then- the glimpse of instability, the madness that all members of the Black family were afflicted with to some degree; Bella being a more...extreme case of such. In her anger, Hadara didn't catch the victorious glee that slowly passed over her professor's features with the realizations that led her further away from the girl she was thought to be. 

She spoke finally, through gritted teeth, "Who were they? And what happened to them that landed me here? Everyone here says that they were circus freaks and druggies."

Her parents...she'd been told all her life that they were worthless druggies and drunkards and circus freaks and even if she believed deep down that the nuns were lying, she couldn't help but slowly believe that as the truth. But if it weren't and if they had been like her then _who_ put her here- surely with their magic they could have taken care of her easily...unless they hadn't _wanted_ to. 

"Your parents were Lily and James Potter. They were magical the same way you are...and I can assure you that they were not whatever those _Muggles_ claimed."

Despite her anger and confusion, she mouthed the unfamiliar word to herself, "Muggles?" The man spoke the word as if he were talking about the dirt beneath his shoes. 

"Non-magical people. Ordinary people- like the people **_here_**."

Again, his tone was filled with an easy, shameless disgust that Hadara heartfully shared towards them. _Muggles-_ she liked that term, it showed how lowly they were; as if they were a whole other inferior species like an insect or a worm. Which they were, she thought with a vindictive smirk. They were filthy beings, after all; unworthy because they didn't have magic or any real qualities or importance. 

"How did they die? I feel it safe to presume that is the case, correct...?", she trailed off, equal parts angry that no one ever even told her their names or what really landed her where she was, and confusion, because there were stories far too detailed, about a woman that dropped her off. Who had it been if not her mother?

The professor took a while to respond, though why she couldn't say. Whatever it was, if they were magical and presumably young enough to have a child, then it couldn't have been a natural cause. Unless magical people died sooner? She paled at the thought, though she eventually decided anything was better than being one of them- a _Muggle,_ that is.  

"Your father was a powerful wizard skilled in Transfiguration and was in line to be Head Auror- which are trained law enforcement officials for the Ministry of Magic- while your ...mother was a famous Potions and Charms master. They were important figures in a war that had been taking place in Wizarding Britain long before you were born."

He paused for an achingly long moment, before finding what must have been the right words, "The war was fought between the strongest Dark Lord that ever existed and his followers- called Death Eaters, who was against their ideals, and Albus Dumbledore's...your headmaster's 'vigilante' group- of whom your parents were strong supporters of. They fought against the Dark Lord because they believed in the unification of Muggles and Wizards and the restrictions of magic, among other ideals shared by the 'Light' side."

Hadara sucked in a harsh breath, not having expected that, or _any_ of this, truly. 

"So I take it they were killed by the Death Eaters, then?", she finally concluded, idly wondering exactly who it was she would have to set ablaze for causing her to be placed at the orphanage, even if she didn't know the full story. 

Professor Quirrell's face twitched with a flurry of emotions that disappeared before she could so much as question them, "No. They were killed by the Dark Lord, himself."

Hadara leveled the man with a blank stare that flattened into icy shards of green at his listless gaze, "Surely you are joking? This...Dark Lord must have been incredibly powerful from the way you're talking about the man. Why would he go after my parents specifically when he must have had plenty of other enemies? And where is he now? If you're telling the truth then there's no reason he would have left me breathing."

Her clear intellect and disregard for the useless facts he'd given her swayed his decision and the man decided that telling her more of the truth than the old fool ever could be bothered to would only benefit him in the long run. Even if the girl harbored hatred toward him for her parent's deaths, she would know that he was more honest than Dumbledore and therefore, in her mind, more trustworthy. 

"The matter was far more complicated than even the war had been, and I'm sure your headmaster Dumbledore would not appreciate this knowledge being given to you when he doesn't have your... best interests in mind, however, I feel you should know."

She was deathly quiet as she considered his words and he gave her more to ponder.

"The war was on the brink of ending, with the Dark Lord and his forces the clear victor when your mother became pregnant with you and a prophesy- a prediction made by a seer employed by your Headmaster, was released to the Dark Lord. The prophecy detailed a girl born at the end of July. Today- Your birthday. The girl would have the power to defeat the Dark Lord and the Dark Lord, knowing that he couldn't allow the child to live and compromise his victory even if the notion was ridiculous, sought out your parents so that he could kill _you_ because you were the only girl born that fit the requirements."

He took a breath, analyzing her reactions as he continued to speak with a sneer threatening to pull at the edges of his taunt mouth.

"Your parents decided to go into hiding so that you could be safe. But, unfortunately, he ended up finding you through a close friend that knew of their location and willingly told him where they were hidden. Voldemort, the Dark Lord, killed your parents and tried to kill you, but the curse he used turned against him, and he... _died_. You are known throughout the world as the Girl-Who-Lived and you're famous for his _defeat_ as an infant."

He choked on whatever words he might have followed his retelling with, as the temperature rose threateningly within the confined space of the room and the girl stared at him as if she were peering into the depths of his skull, her long dark braid blowing in the invisible force of the wind that was not there. Fire, an unnatural emerald green licked up the length of her arms, practically swallowing the pale flesh as it flared outwardly in a threat.

The air stilled, and like it never happened at all, the fire and the wind and her harsh gaze were gone, in place of it an expression of innocent confusion on the girl, so well-practiced and without any hint of the lividness he could feel from the girl's magic that Voldemort himself knew that she would prove to be a force against whoever it was couldn't earn her loyalty- Dumbledore, he could make certain. 

"How could a baby kill this Dark Lord? There is simply no way that he can be dead- he's a wizard, isn't he? Surely the 'strongest Dark Lord that ever existed' must have had some sort of immunity to death. His name means 'flight of death' or 'flight from death', in French." Hadara looked at the idiotic excuse of a professor before her and scoffed.

And this prophecy mess was truly foolish, placed on her when she couldn't even speak a sentence yet or even know which side of the war she would have chosen. the future, she felt, was unpredictable, with the smallest of changes turning it into something completely different than previously thought. Though she couldn't say she would have ignored it if she were this 'Voldemort'.

A prophecy would start rumors about weakness and weakness was the worse thing a ruler could be considered- it meant low motivation and likely failure. Still, there were plenty of smarter things he could have done instead. 

Quirrell gazed at her then with a dark, hungry look in his eyes which shone crimson red for the briefest of moments. Internally, he gained a renewed ambition to have this girl serve him- to be a weapon for him, one that had the potential to be even stronger than Bella, and just as loyal if he used the right manipulations and shoves in the opposite directions the meddling old fool wanted her to go. 

"There is some speculation in the regard but as we all know it, he is dead and you are famous and hailed as the savior and the Girl-Who-Lived. Any other questions or are you prepared to go and retrieve your needed supplies?" He only had so long before the weak useless worm of a man regained control of his body. 

Famous...? Not infamous as she was within the orphanage but more of a beloved wonder that was looked up to and watched closely? All because of something unexplainable that happened when she was a baby. 

Was this 'Defense Against The Dark Arts' -whatever that was- professor daft? _Of bloody course_ , she had questions, more so than she ever had before even with the murky subject of who her parents were finally cleared up and the knowledge of what happened to them...strange as it was. 

There was a Ministry of Magic, enough people for what sounded like an entire wizarding world war, and a whole organization of people who were at least somewhat close enough to her parents to warranty fighting for the same cause, even if she didn't know the objectives or reasonings for the war, and yet she was placed at a Muggle orphanage?

She voiced this questions with a furious tremor in her voice and was met with a disturbingly pleasant look on the man's face- as if he were just presented with the opportunity of his life. The man bothered her...there was something about him that simply didn't fit. 

His eyes were too dull for the dark, powerful stare she could see in them. His body was too short and wiry for the straight, regally proud way he held himself. Perhaps the worse, most ill-fitting part of him was his voice, which was cultured with an aristocratic haughty drawl to it that was practiced; just like her own. 

His voice didn't fit the persona of a simple professor, his cold stare didn't fit his eyes, his sneer didn't fit his features, and his stature didn't fit his posture- he was just _off_ and her throbbing scar showed that much. 

The satisfied smirk he shot her showed that he knew things about her were not as they seemed either, in whatever way he or the masses of people who supposedly thought her to be the savior thought her to be- a dangerous situation, she knew, but as it sometimes did, her curiosity won out and she was offered a smirk of her own. Compared to his, hers held much more teeth. 

"Albus Dumbledore, a name I'm sure you've noticed holds significant influence in our world, was the one to place you in the Muggle world. It was my belief and many others that you were placed with your mother's relatives. As she's a _Muggle-born_ , they would have been an ordinary Muggle family."

He made no mention of his belief that the girl's mother was at least a Half-Blood if not a Pure-blood with the Black family relation. There were some things the girl would have to learn herself and if she couldn't she wasn't important enough or resourceful enough to keep his interest. 

He watched the tightening of her mouth in aggression at the mention of her mother's family with a close eye. "He told the public that you were placed somewhere safe and more beneficial for your childhood and no one questioned him. I don't know if this is a fact, but, from what I've gathered from... ** _Ms. Cole_** , it might have been your Muggle aunt that abandoned you here after you were placed with her by Dumbledore." 

Hatred festered in Hadara then, toward the man that sent her to the miserable world of Muggles and inadvertently to the orphanage over a world of magic, and toward the woman that was her aunt- a Muggle that abandoned her and left her without knowing who she was or who her parents had been. She didn't even know what they looked like- or if there was any other living family of hers. 

"I've got no idea how it was that he had the authority to place you anywhere as the decision should have been with the Department of Magical Child Welfare."

"...Muggle-born. Does that mean that my mother's parents were Muggles? No wizards or witches at all?" How could a witch be born from ordinary Muggles? She shuddered in disgust at the thought and violent feelings that arose at the fact that her aunt had been one of them and probably was the reason she'd been forced to live with stupid Muggles. It didn't matter what blood relation they had...it sickened her to think that she was related to someone like that. 

Dumbledore, whoever he thought he was making a decision that clearly had nothing to do with him, had made a grave mistake thinking that she was safer in a world without magic. Yeah, _real safe_ she'd been getting beaten and pushed around by their filthy hands. 

Quirrell interrupted her internal angst by answering her question,"Yes, your mother's parents were Muggles as far as I know. I didn't know your parents personally but your father was a Pure-Blood, which means that he had no Muggle ancestry."

He glanced over at her with the utmost seriousness, "Not to mention your father was from an old rich Pure-Blood family. You will find that families like the Potters and Greengrass', and Malfoys are much like royalty in our world. They hold old magic traditions, festivities, and elegance very highly. You'd do well to find out as much as you can in regards to proper Pure-Blood etiquette, customs, and culture if you wish to be respected. Though blood status isn't as important as power or intellect, those with high blood status usually have both and shun others that don't." 

Hadara resolved to find any and every book available on that subject and to educate herself the best she could if she truly had inherited money from her parents. Royalty meant traditions, customs, values, politics, rules, practices, and taboos. With magic involved she would do best to correct any ignorance on her part, even if she didn't fully intend on following any rules.

Rules were meant for the weak-but for the powerful, they were meant to be broken. 

"One final question, then...what does that make me?" 

"A Half-Blood, though both of your parents are magical, and not much is known about your mother's familial history."

A Half-Blood. The man said the word with the slightest hint of scorn, almost undetectable by the average person, but Hadara spent nearly her entire life closely watching people's reactions and emotions to certain actions so that she could form a mask best suited toward that person's perception of her so that whatever motive she held could be achieved.

As such, she saw the bitterness clearly and couldn't help but wonder what this 'status' meant for her and how she would use her cunningness to overcome whatever ideals they seemed to hold as he claimed the Pure-Bloods were in control. 

"Let's go, then", she demanded, rising from her relaxed seated position and patting her jacket to make sure her money was still in its pockets, which thankfully, it was. Well...It wasn't _her_ money, per se, but still money nonetheless. Luckily enough she had the foresight to lock her amulet in the plastic safe that she stored in her wardrobe- which would keep anyone from questioning why a poor orphan girl like her had something clearly of value. It felt strange having her neck free from the weight of the amulet, which she wore every day since she found it. 

Hadara glanced expectantly at her professor, who merely stood before her without a mention of where they were going, exactly, or even making the slightest indication that he was ready to leave in his...car? She scoffed at the notion. Surely there was a different way of travel- that didn't involve _broomsticks._

Quirrell held out his arm with the folds of his robes pointed toward her, "Hold onto my sleeve and we will apparate in front of the Leaky Cauldron." 

"Apparate? What is that?", she asked with caution and opposing interest, while subtly looking over her close door, which locked itself quietly.  

With no small measure of impatience, he explained that apparition was essentially teleportation from one area to another using magic and that, no, she wasn't of the age where she could physically or legally do so.

After this, he irritably shoved his sleeve into her grasp and with that was the lurch of her stomach as if someone dug a hook into her navel and pulled her through space and the next thing she knew everything went black and she was pressed harshly from all directions and her eardrums and eyes were under significant pressure. She was gone from her room in a dizzying swirl of color that was significantly darker than his maroon robe, under the strain of her deathly grip. 

She neglected to inform him that she could already do something that had a similar effect of teleportation- albeit with a much quicker, less unpleasant process. Not apparition but 'blinking' because she could still only go small distances. 

Instead of giving him any information without some sort of benefit for herself, she chose to untangle her limbs once their surroundings were righted again and she realized she had fallen into an uncomfortable, twisted position where she was in a graceless heap upon their arrival. 

Finally, she stood once more, staring at the building and street before her with a mixture of disgust and disappointment that quickly overcame her embarrassment over her lack of coordination.

Their place of destination was a tiny, grubby-looking pub nestled between an ordinary bookshop and a record store. The street was full of restaurants, shops, and cinemas and normal people- _Muggles_ , she reminded herself. They were all bustling from place to place but didn't seem to notice the pub, their eyes passing over the building as if it weren't there, which lead her to the conclusion that only magical people like them could see it. 

Professor Quirrell shared a similar look of disgust when he gazed upon them, a look that only shifted when the dirty sign above them became clean and readable under their attention- reading, 'The Leaky Cauldron' in blocky font over a dark drawing of a cauldron.

Uncaringly, Hadara pushed open the heavy black door and strode into the building with an air of confidence, assured by the presence of what could only be magic when so many Muggles surrounded them- which meant that the hidden world of magic she wondered about since a chance meeting with a snake was indeed real and that she wasn't dreaming one of her horribly realistic dreams while trapped in the walls of a dingy orphanage.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you've noticed that this Voldemort has a decent bit of sanity when compared to his portrayal in the first chapter, but that will be explained in due time.
> 
> Also, as I'm sure you noted, Voldemort is not on the back of Quirrell's head, but within it, much like his link with Harry in the films, and how he essentially able to take control of his body (or try to, in Harry's case) through his Horcrux. It never made sense to me why Voldemort would be on the back of Quirrell's head when Quirrell essentially was a temporary Horcrux and Voldemort didn't form on the back of Harry's head after possessing him in the order of the phoenix. Idk, I might be looking into it too much.


End file.
